


Beneath The Waves

by pine_storm_season



Series: mizu-adjacent stories [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Gen, M/M, Manipulation, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, this was not supposed to be this long lmao i just Hyperfocused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29734743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pine_storm_season/pseuds/pine_storm_season
Summary: dream ends up in mizu, and encounters ranbob, who is entirely too trusting and also not doing the greatest mentally. things only get worse from there.
Relationships: Ranbob & Dream, Ranbob/Dream
Series: mizu-adjacent stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189001
Comments: 15
Kudos: 62





	Beneath The Waves

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact; this was supposed to be completely platonic, and then i accidentally made it,,, Really romantic-tinted and then i just decided to go with it lmao
> 
> warnings: abuse and manipulation (from both the povs), referenced murder (it's ranbob), some mildly graphic violence (that doesn't actually happen, but is shown), trauma reactions, panic attacks, and nightmares

Never in their wildest dreams had they thought this would happen. Sure, they had imagined it—Dream had always worked differently than the others, in the stories, so maybe he'd survived all this time—but not once had they genuinely thought they would ever be standing in the presence of the person (god? They didn’t quite know. The tales were blurred.) currently before them.

“Hi,” they managed.

Dream tilted his head, and Ranbob thought that maybe, behind the mask, he was grinning.

“Hello,” Dream said smoothly.

“I’m Ranbob,” they said. Their voice was strangled with shock, and they barely held back a wince. “Sole survivor of the lost city of Mizu.”

Dream’s fingers tapped at the handle of his axe. A burst of thrilling fear washed through them.

“Sole survivor?” Dream asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And what chain of events lead to that?”

Ranbob brushed the hair out of their face and tried to stand up straighter. “The one where I murdered them all.”

 _“All_ of them?”

“All of them,” they confirmed, pride flickering across their face. “I was defending you, and it got…out of hand, just a little, and then they were all dead, and I have been here—” Their voice wavered, and they coughed to try to steady it. “I have been here alone for a very long time.”

“Aw,” Dream murmured. He sounded sympathetic, and they felt a strange blend of joy at the attention mixed with a reflexive recoil at the pity.

They shivered, hands fluttering anxiously at their sides as they waited for Dream to tell them what to do.

Dream reached out and touched their shoulder lightly, and their whole body went tense. Dream was here. Touching them. He was _here,_ giving his full undivided attention to _them,_ and they were thriving in it.

They tried not to show disappointment when he moved away. They were pretty sure they failed.

“Wanna show me around?” he asked casually, and their heart leapt.

“Of course!” they exclaimed. They grinned at him, rocking back and forth on their heels with excitement. “Where do you wanna see first?”

Dream shrugged. “Anywhere’s fine by me. I don’t plan to leave anytime soon. The world is…rather hectic, and I’d rather not take part at the moment.”

Ranbob nodded, trying to project sympathy and understanding. “I’ll start from the entrance, then?” they said.

Dream shrugged again. “Sure, sounds good. I take it the entrance isn’t how I got in?”

“…How _did_ you get in?”

The smirk was audible in Dream’s voice when he answered next. “And what if I don't want to say?”

Ranbob twitched, immediately trying to backtrack. “That's fine, I'm not trying to pry, sorry, I won’t ask again,” they stammered.

Dream laughed, warm and friendly. “I'm just joking, don't worry. I came from the part that connects to the surface.”

Ranbob ran a hand through their hair, careful not to dislodge their goggles. They gave him a slightly shy grin, backing up a few steps. “So, tour?”

“Of course.”

//

Dream could’ve laughed at the situation he’d landed himself in. He’d expected someone with a fear of him that would have to be overcome, someone who had heard all he’d done and was wary. Instead, he got someone who practically _worshipped_ him, pliable and trusting and easy to manipulate.

He noticed the way they went still whenever he touched them, and made sure to do it a few more times on the tour. Years of isolation meant years of loneliness, and he knew _exactly_ how to handle that. Really, he found it almost funny how they went still for a moment and then tried to carry on as though they hadn’t just been touched by someone they regarded as a hero.

Ranbob was interesting, Dream mused, in that they seemed simultaneously aware of his skills and fell for it with barely any effort. Really, the hardest part was restraint. He could’ve completely overloaded their brain with praise and kind touches, and only the fact that they wouldn't know how to react—and therefore he wouldn’t know how to handle them—kept him from doing it just for the fun of it.

He sat in the room that had been made to represent him, staring at the dully gleaming sets of armor and wondering what his plan of action would be. He'd be safe here, he knew, but eventually he’d get bored. And depending how attached he’d gotten to Ranbob, he may or may not leave with them in tow.

A tentative knock on his door jolted him out of his thoughts.

“Yes?” he called.

“Um, I made—I made food, if you want some,” Ranbob said hesitantly.

“Alright, great,” he said warmly. A new set of circumstances. How could he refuse?

He glanced up at the glass ceiling above them as they walked.

“How sturdy is that?” he asked casually.

“Very,” they answered. “It’s never failed once. And there are safety measures in place in case it does—not that I think it will—so only one room or hallway will be compromised.”

“That's good,” Dream said. “I’d rather not have water come pouring down on my head when I'm not expecting it,” he added drily, and they laughed.

“Neither would I,” Ranbob said, smiling at him, and Dream laughed.

“I'm glad that even now, Mizu is a safe place,” Dream said. “Nothing like a prison here, hm?”

Ranbob shook their head quickly. “No, of course not. Of course not. It wasn’t required, and then they were all—” Their voice faltered, and they hurried to continue. “And then they were all dead, and it didn't matter.”

“And just you left alone here?” he asked, injecting gentleness into his voice. “That can't have been fun.”

They shrugged, although Dream noticed the flicker of emotion that flashed across their face. “It was fine,” they said flatly. “I did kill them, after all.”

“That you did,” Dream said warmly, and reached out to lightly tug at the ends of their hair, messily cut just above their shoulders. They twitched at the contact, instinctively leaning towards him before they caught themself and stood up straight.

They arrived at the place Ranbob had said was the cafeteria, where food lay out on two plates.

“I'm not used to eating here,” they said apologetically. “Usually I’d just eat wherever I happened to be, but that didn't seem right now that you’re here.”

“That's alright.”

Dream reached up to take off his mask—he couldn’t very well eat with it on, and Ranbob didn’t exactly provide a threat—and found that as soon as he did, they found themself fascinated with their own hands.

“You can look at me,” he said, amused.

They cautiously raised their gaze to meet his eyes, immediately ducking their head as soon as they made eye contact. He snorted, giving them a gentle smile.

“Sorry, it just—it just doesn't seem right, that's all,” they stammered. “In—in the stories, you never took off your mask, so it just—”

“That’s alright,” he said again. He smiled at them, hiding his amusement at how they were acting.

//

Ranbob hated how they kept dropping things, awe at being right in front of Dream mixing with anxiety bubbling in their gut at messing something up. Not only was Dream there, but he didn't even have his mask on, and they weren't quite sure how to react.

“Out of curiosity,” Dream said, “what was I like in the stories?”

“Very powerful,” they said immediately. “Godlike, kinda, and feared by most. It was your world, and they were living in it. You were in charge, even if you didn’t technically hold a position of power. The only time you weren’t in control is when that bastard betrayed you.”

Dream nodded. “And Tommy?”

They frowned. “I don't understand?”

“In the stories, what was Tommy like?”

“He was a dumb child who thought he could challenge you,” they said immediately.

Dream laughed. “I see.”

“Was he different in reality?” they asked hesitantly.

“Mm, not much,” Dream said. “He was certainly stubborn as hell, that's for sure. Put up quite a fight in exile.”

They hesitated, twisting their hands under the table.

“Exile?” they asked quietly. “I'm not sure I follow.”

“Part of the consequences for what he did was exile,” Dream said. “I had to…teach him a few lessons.”

They shivered, a tiny thrill of fear running through them.

“Like what?” they asked.

Dream’s face closed off, and his voice was low when he spoke again.

“Like that he’s a worthless child who needs to learn that his actions have consequences.”

“Oh,” Ranbob squeaked. “I’m—” They swallowed, trying to push down the feeling that they’d done something irreversibly wrong. “I'm sorry for upsetting you. I shouldn't have pushed.”

Dream gave them a small smile. “No, it's fine.”

“Oh. Okay,” they said, offering him a tentative smile in return.

“Boy always thought he was a hero,” Dream muttered.

Ranbob nodded. “Most of Mizu agreed. But they also thought you were horrible, so I'm not surprised they were wrong there too.”

“Was that why you killed them?” he asked.

“A little bit,” they said hesitantly. “But more that—that they were gonna throw me out. So it was mostly self-defense.”

“Oh,” Dream said softly. “Yeah, I get that.”

They swallowed as Dream lightly rested a hand on their shoulder. Excitement was thrumming through their body at being so close to their idol, at being touched by their idol.

They hadn’t realized how much they had missed touch until now.

“You okay?” Dream asked, and suddenly they realized that they had been completely in their own head and hadn’t absorbed anything Dream had just said.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine.”

Dream removed his hand from their shoulder, fidgeting with his mask strap instead. They tried not to slump from disappointment.

//

Ranbob had been a light sleeper for a very long time (at least, they thought so. Time blurred and spun when they thought about it for too long, and their memory had never been the best, but they’d woken at just the sound of footsteps too many times to forget it.) but they still had not expected to wake to a yell. They’d killed everyone that lived in Mizu, after all.

For a moment, terror spiked through them, before they remembered Dream and a fear of a different kind replaced it.

They stood, padding out into the halls.

“Dream?” they called softly. “Are you okay?”

They encountered him curled up outside the room he’d slept in, back against the wall and staring up at the dim glowstone lamps above

“Dream?” they asked again.

“I'm fine,” he muttered. His hands were trembling when he raised them up to his face, securing his mask tighter.

“Would you like me to go away?” they asked hesitantly.

Dream shook his head. “Stay here.”

Obediently, they settled a short distance away.

“If you don't mind my asking, what happened?” they asked after a few moments. “If possible, I'll fix it.”

Dream shrugged. His knees were still tucked up against his chest, his arms wrapped around himself securely. Ranbob felt intrusive and disrespectful for noticing it.

“I don't like small spaces,” he said eventually. “Or dark-walled ones.”

“My apologies,” they said. “If that's not a suitable room, there are many others here for you to pick from.”

Dream shrugged again. “I've had worse.”

“If it's not good enough, I’ll fix it,” Ranbob disagreed.

“Anything that's not small or dark works,” Dream said mildly.

Ranbob nodded. “I can bring you to one, I just thought—I just thought you might rather be in the room for you.”

“You thought wrong,” he said coolly, and the feeling of failure flickered cold and sickening in their chest before they pushed it away.

“I'm sorry, Dream. Would you like me to lead you there now?”

Dream shook his head. “I’m unlikely to sleep the rest of the night. It's fine.”

“I'm sorry,” Ranbob said again, this time not even sure what they are apologizing for.

“Don't be,” Dream said flatly.

Ranbob shook their head, rubbing at the thin silvery scar on their left palm. It had healed long ago, but it had become a nervous habit to rub at it.

“Come here,” Dream said suddenly.

Ranbob obeyed, scooting over until they were close—but not touching—him.

“More,” Dream said, lifting an arm to pull them close against him.

They stiffened, unused to the feeling of a warm body beside their own after years of isolation, then shivered and let themself relax. They could feel Dream relaxing, too, his arm still around their shoulders.

“Thank you,” he said, very quietly.

“Of course.” They hoped he could hear the undying loyalty in their voice, the loyalty that they were trying to project out as a shield against whatever had affected him earlier.

“We've both had a long time alone, huh?” Dream mused quietly.

Ranbob frowned. “I—I don't understand?”

“You’ve spent years alone in Mizu, and I’ve sp—I’ve also spent a long time without people.”

Ranbob didn't permit themself to wonder what he was going to say before he corrected it.

“I see,” they said instead. “Although mine was self-inflicted; I did murder…every other living soul that lived here.”

Dream laughed bitterly. “Oh, some would say mine was self-inflicted too.”

Ranbob frowned. “I wouldn’t.”

“I know.” Dream rested his head on top of their own.

Mizu was deathly quiet; if they tried, they could hear his heartbeat. It scared them how mortal he seemed. How mortal he was.

“Do you get nightmares, Ranbob?” he asked, after another few minutes had passed.

“I—Not as much anymore,” they said. “Earlier on…yes. A lot. The murder of your entire people takes…a certain toll on your mind.”

Dream nodded. Silence fell again for several moments.

They weren’t going to push. If he wanted to share, then he would. It would be wrong for them to ask him something like this.

“Is there…” Dream hesitated, trailing off. “Is there anyone you miss?”

Ranbob hesitated. It was…too personal of a question to share with anyone, they thought. But this was Dream; surely Dream of everyone was deserving of their honesty?

“Yes.” They wouldn’t elaborate unless he asked. They were hoping he wouldn't ask.

They felt pathetic and arrogant for even hoping that.

Instead, Dream simply nodded and left it at that. “Me too,” he said. “I…I had friends.”

Ranbob noted the past tense. They didn’t think he wanted to specify.

“I'm sorry,” they said quietly. Not an apology, exactly; closer to a condolence for whoever he has lost.

Dream laughed without humor. “It was my own fault, Ranbob. If anyone’s to blame, it was me.”

“Oh. Well…still. I'm sorry.”

They knew how that felt.

“I've done some bad shit, Ranbob, y’know? And I—” Dream laughed, and for a moment they understood how someone could be scared of him. “I don’t regret a single bit of it. But I think we match, huh?”

They stayed silent, letting him talk.

“Two monsters among men, hm?” Dream laughed again. “Fitting, really.”

“Um—” Ranbob started, before cutting themself off. “What do you—”

Their nervousness must have been betrayed somewhere, by the waver in their voice or the dull shudder in their shoulders.

“Don’t mind me,” Dream said, and he laughed. But this time it was a friendly laugh, of someone who knew they were rambling and had just been good-naturedly told to shut up. “I’m just talkin’, ignore me. It's late.”

Ranbob nodded, relaxing back into his side. Any hint of danger had dissolved back into the air, and they felt safe again.

A yawn forced its way out their mouth, and they quickly covered it in embarrassment.

Dream just laughed. “I forgot that not everyone’s got trouble sleeping. You can go back to sleep, if you’d like. I don't mind.”

Ranbob nodded again. As if on cue, their eyes started to slip shut, and they made to stand, but Dream didn't let go.

“I don't mind if you stay here. I've been on my own for a very long time.” He laughed warmly. “You're welcome to go back to your room, I just thought you might like to stay here.”

This was almost more than they had hoped for, and they squashed down the flutter of excitement that raced through them as they settled back down against Dream. They let their head rest on his shoulder—how was this allowed? How was Dream permitting it?—and let themself drift off again, more at peace than in years.

//

They woke up, and for a moment, panic and confusion flickered through them as they tried to remember where they were. They were sure they hadn’t gone to sleep there (had they?) and yet here they were.

Then the events of last night came back to them, and they immediately glanced around for Dream.

He was sitting across the hallway, mask in his hands, watching them with an amused look on his face.

“Good morning,” Dream said, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile.

“Good—good morning,” Ranbob stuttered out in response, ears twitching back in embarrassment.

“Did you sleep well?” Dream asked.

They frowned—hadn’t Dream been there as long as they had? And they were curled up against a wall, what did he think?—before they read the amusement on his face and realized he was at least halfway joking.

“You're always so serious,” he teased, and Ranbob could feel a smile tugging at their mouth. “Lighten up a bit, why don't you?”

“I'm not used to people,” they said falteringly. “I've been alone a long time, and even before then I wasn’t the greatest at social interactions.”

Dream nodded understandingly. “Oh, yeah, I get that. It was a good while before I readjusted to existing around other living creatures, let alone people.”

 _What did you go through?_ The question burned in their mind, but they refused to say it. It wouldn’t be right. Dream would share if he wanted to.

“Well, let's hope I adjust as quick,” they said instead, a clumsy attempt to mimic Dream’s easy demeanor.

He simply smiled, standing and stretching. The mask dangled by the straps from one of his hands, and Ranbob wondered what they’d done to earn such trust.

(They didn't deserve it, they thought. They had killed everyone who trusted them; they weren’t used to such trust being placed in them casually. As though they weren't a murderer. As though they weren't a monster.

But then again, who were they to question Dream’s decisions? So they didn't comment on it.)

They stood, wincing at the stiffness in their muscles that made them stumble. Dream reached out to catch them, although they recovered before they reached him, and their face burned.

Sometimes they were very glad they were only human in the loosest sense of the word.

“Do you have any favorite places around here?” Dream asked.

 _The room I made for you,_ they thought immediately. But it wouldn't be right to say that, especially not when Dream hadn’t been able to spend a night there.

“There’s a smallish park that I like,” they said instead, “and there’s a spot where the coral encases the hallways that’s really nice.”

“Cool,” Dream said, smiling at them. “Do you mind showing me them?”

“Of course not,” they said, hesitantly returning the smile. “The park is closer, would you like to go there first?”

“Why not?” he said, and grinned. “I hadn’t expected this place to be so intricate.”

Ranbob felt a burst of pride in their city; it was _their_ city Dream was in. It was _their_ city that he liked. _They_ were showing him places they liked.

“Why are you so quiet?” Dream asked casually as they walked.

Ranbob shrugged, rubbing at the scar on their palm.

_“Why are you so quiet?” he asked, grinning at them, a sparkle in his orange eyes that made them think of fire and sunlight. They shrugged, grinning back without meaning to._

_“Just am, I suppose,” they said._

_Grey-turquoise frills flared in amusement. “I see,” he said, laughing. “Very informative, thanks.”_

_“I try.”_

“Haven't talked to anyone in a while,” they said by way of explanation.

_Orange eyes, widened in betrayal, blood spilling from a gash in his chest and staining the shimmering grey-purple sword black._

Dream laughed. “Fair,” he said. “It’s a rather hard thing to break, isn't it? The only person you talk to being yourself?”

 _I talk to the others,_ they wanted to say, _if their echoes are listening. I talk to them all the time._

“It is,” they said instead. “Loneliness is very hard to forget.”

“That it is,” Dream said, his face growing serious. “It's not fun, is it?”

They shook their head, unconsciously edging closer. “It's not,” they agreed quietly.

He touched their arm lightly and they tried to not stiffen at the contact. They were pretty sure there was at least a moment where they failed.

They reached the park without further incident, water-dappled sunlight filtering through leaves and making an even more intricate pattern on the ground.

“Oh, this is nice,” Dream said.

“Thank you.”

Dream gave them a quizzical look.

“I keep it alive,” they said. “Everyone else was dead, so it naturally fell on me to take care of.”

“How long now?”

“Around five years, I think?”

Dream winced, sympathy on his face.

“It wasn’t too bad,” they hurried to explain. “I did it to myself, after all.”

“Five years is a very long time to be alone,” he answered, touching their shoulder.

They twitched. They still weren't used to how casually he would touch them. No one had done that for years; even before they killed them all.

“I suppose so,” they said neutrally.

Dream gave them a lopsided grin. “But hey, I'm here now, aren't I?”

Their mouth twitched up into a smile. “That you are. Shall we keep going?”

“Why not?”

The walk to the coral hallways was silent aside from the sound of their footsteps, but Ranbob felt surprisingly at peace. Dream was safe. Dream was here, and safe, and alive, and paying attention to them.

They jumped when he put an arm around their shoulders, and he quickly drew it back.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

The sense of wrongness that spiked through them felt like someone had stabbed cold iron into their gut. Dream shouldn't be apologizing to them, they should be apologizing to _him_.

“It's okay,” they said instead, “just startled me, that's all.”

The urge to step closer again as a reassurance that it truly was okay warred with the certainty that it would be wrong to do something like that, and they didn't even realize they had zoned out until Dream said their name.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“You just seemed kinda out of it,” he said, and smiled at them. “Glad to see you just zoned out a bit.”

They returned the smile, hands trembling slightly (Why were they doing that? Maybe just one of those things that happen when you’re not the most mentally stable and have been living in isolation for years? They decided that must be it.) and they tucked them up in their sleeves to hide it.

“Here we are,” they said, gesturing the softly glowing, colorful coral encasing the glass above them.

“Oh,” Dream said softly.

“Is it nice?”

Dream didn't answer. He stared up at the coral, an uncharacteristically _lost_ expression creeping across his face.

“Dream?” they asked. “Is something wrong?”

His lips moved, forming words—names?—before he shook himself.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, securing his mask back on his face.

“I'm sorry,” they said.

Dream nodded. He reached out and grabbed their hand without warning, and they went stock-still in surprise. His hand was trembling, and he was holding on tight enough that part of their mind wondered if he was going to accidentally cut off circulation in their hand.

“Dream?”

“Memories,” is all he said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I get that too,” they said. “Of people I’ve—” _Lost? Killed? Regretted murdering?_ “—known.”

“And then you’re the reason they’re no longer around? They’re the reason for your downfall?”

They tilted their head to the side, pressing it against his shoulder in reassurance. (Were they trying to get comfort or give it? Did they even know?)

“Yeah,” they said softly.

He laughed without humor. “What a coincidence, huh? We match. Hands stained with blood and all that.”

Reflexively, they looked down at their hands. Clean, as always. Dream’s hand, still gripping theirs tightly.

They barely held in a flinch as their mind’s eye filled in an image of dark blood covering their hands. Dripping thickly. Marking them. They could almost hear an echo of the screams.

They hadn't realized they were shaking until Dream let go.

“I'm sorry, I'm scaring you,” he said, brushing a hand over their shoulder comfortingly. They couldn't help leaning into the touch. “I'll stop.”

 _It’s okay,_ they tried to say, but a strangled, wordless croak dragged itself from their throat instead. They shook their head, trying to regain composure, but instead to their horror tears pricked at their eyes.

“Hey, it's okay,” Dream said gently, his hand a comforting weight on their shoulder. They couldn't stop shaking. “It's okay, you’re right here.”

They nodded weakly, leaning towards him without meaning to. Years-old pain ached in their chest.

_It had taken days before they could look at their hands and not see blood. It had taken weeks for them to stop waking up sobbing. It had taken months for the ache of what they had done to fade enough for them to exist beside it._

Dream wrapped his arms around them and held them close, resting his head on top of theirs. They were trembling.

“Okay, I'm good now,” they whispered eventually.

They missed the touch the moment they moved away, but Dream had already mirrored them and taken a step back, and they wouldn't let themself undo that action.

Loneliness rose in them like a wave, and for a moment they couldn’t breathe under the crushing weight. But then they adjusted, and unless they thought about it, it was like it had never happened.

//

“Do you ever miss the outside?” Dream asked casually.

They shrugged. “I've never been. None of us ever bothered to leave unless they weren't coming back, and after I was the only one left, I—I was too scared to leave. They wanted to throw me out. It felt too much like letting them win to—to leave after I’d fought so hard to stay.”

A prison of their own making, Dream thought, and had to bite his tongue to keep the amusement out of his face. Maybe he’d bring it up later to see how they reacted. But then again, they probably wouldn’t understand what he meant. It didn't seem that they knew about the prison.

“So you killed them…just because they wanted to throw you out?”

Ranbob stiffened.

“You don't have to answer,” Dream added quickly. He smiled at them gently. “I get it if it’s too personal to just say.”

“I…” They trailed off. It didn't take even a sliver of Dream’s skill to tell that they didn't want to answer.

“Hey.” Dream touched their shoulder and they jumped, arms coming to wrap around themself protectively. “It's okay. I don't mind if you don't answer.”

“Okay,” they said softly. A shudder ran through them. “I…”

“Take a minute, ‘kay? I get it. It can be hard to adjust to people again.”

They nodded, before taking a stumbling step away. Dream watched them go, his face carefully just as neutral as his mask.

This wasn't even a _challenge_.

//

Guilt sat thick and sickening in their stomach as they tried to breathe. It was _pathetic_. Dream had had to tell them to leave so they could calm down. A shudder ran through them at the thought.

A quiet, strangled sound tore its way from their throat. Not for the first time, they wondered if they should have just taken the banishment.

 _But then I wouldn't have met Dream,_ they reminded themself _, and didn’t that make it all worth it?_

_Nights spent, wide-awake and teary-eyed, screams echoing through their head too loudly to sleep. The memory of the tremor in their hands as they handled poison; the memory of betrayal in the eyes of those they knew._

It had to be worth it. They were certain it would be worth it. Dream was here. Dream was here. And they were still here to receive him.

Ranbob curled into themself and sobbed.

“Fucking _pathetic,”_ they spat in a voice that trembled. Not even two days before they had a breakdown in front of Dream. Not even two days before they messed something up.

They had killed everyone in their entire goddamn city for him.

(Well, not directly, but they hadn’t wanted to be thrown out. And their fascination with Dream had damned them. If they hadn’t long trained it out of themself, maybe they would blame him for it.

Instead, the only one they blamed was themself.)

A distinctly inhuman sound escaped them, jagged-edged and clearly built from suffering, and they flinched. They hadn't gone very far away; Dream could definitely still hear them. They dreaded facing him after this.

So they didn’t.

Once they’d gotten themself back under control, they slunk out of this part of the city, walking until they were near the surface area of the city. They usually stayed away from here—too many bad memories of panic attacks and staring through the glass, wondering how long it would be until they had to leave—but for some reason, today they felt drawn to it.

The sunlight shone through the thin layer of water above the room they were in. It was calming, almost. Peaceful.

A thrill fluttered through them as the idea to step outside crossed their mind. It wouldn't be the people of Mizu winning, now that Dream was here. Ranbob had already won. They were here, and Mizu wasn’t, and their idol was.

Besides, Dream came from the surface.

They hadn’t been here in a long time; they didn't think they’d ever been in the room above this one. That one opened onto the air. That one was the one they would’ve seen last if they had been banished.

Why were they so nervous? They had murdered so many people. They had done so much worse than simply climbing a staircase up to the first room of Mizu. They had done so much—

“Ranbob?”

They just about jumped out of their skin.

“Holy…” they breathed, hand over their heart, turning to face Dream. “You startled me. A lot.”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Dream said sheepishly. “I was just worried about you. I thought you didn't like to come here?”

(If they had been less absorbed in the way the apology rubbed them the wrong way, if they had been less focused on turning stumbling words into sentences in their head, they might have noticed the implications behind what Dream said. To know they didn't like to come up here, when what they said was several steps away from that… It pointed to perception and a grasp on how people worked that was almost terrifying. Or would have been, rather. If they had noticed the implications.)

“I was thinking about going outside,” they answered. “I don't usually come here otherwise.”

“Might be best to stay inside,” Dream said, eyes crinkled in sympathy. “You’re not…the most mentally stable today, and it might be a bit of a shock.”

Ranbob’s face burned.

“O—oh, yeah, probably best to stay inside,” they echoed, embarrassment shivering through their entire body. They didn't meet his eyes.

“Who knows, maybe someday I’ll take you to the outside I knew,” Dream said.

Their head snapped up, excitement replacing embarrassment. “Like—”

Dream nodded, grinning. “My old home. Wouldn't that be fun?”

They nodded hastily, hardly able to contain their excitement. Never in their wildest dreams had they imagined something like this would happen.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, laughing. “I'm glad to know someone appreciates me.”

Ranbob knew he was joking, but protectiveness flickered through them. Anyone who disrespected Dream would face them.

“Should we go back to the main part of the city?” Dream asked them lightly.

They nodded. “If you’d like.”

“I would.”

//

Ranbob had thought they'd gotten a handle on the nightmares, thought they’d seen the worst their brain would give them. They could handle nightmares of killing the people they loved, they could handle nightmares of being banished, they could handle nightmares of the sides being flipped and them being killed.

They didn't know how to handle this new one.

They shuddered at the image burned into their mind; Dream’s face—his face, not the mask, but his face. The trust he'd shown them—staring at them with horror in his eyes, blood spilling from a gash in his throat.

A gash they had put there.

A choked sob tore its way from their throat, and they curled into themself, trying and failing to calm down. They wouldn't kill him. They knew they wouldn’t.

But the _expression_ on his face when they had, the pain and fear and betrayal.

They curled into themself, tears slipping down their cheeks as they sobbed. They were already a monster, but killing Dream would make them so much worse. Dream was the one they had done this all for. They loved him.

(Maybe they shouldn’t, but when had that ever stopped them? If he knew what they had done and was still kind, then they could excuse anything he’d done. It was Dream. When would Dream ever do anything wrong?)

A knock on their door sent panic spiking through them; Dream couldn't see them like this. He couldn’t know what they had dreamed about.

…But they wouldn't just lie to him, so they were stuck.

“You okay?” Dream called softly.

“Yes,” they called back, wincing as it came out strangled and thick with tears. They were okay. Or at least, they would be. Eventually.

“You don’t sound like it.” There was concern in his voice, and guilt twisted heavy and cold in their stomach. They shouldn't have woken him by crying. They shouldn’t be making him wake up in the middle of the night to be concerned about them.

The door opened, and Ranbob curled into themself tighter, hiding their face in their hands.

“Hey,” Dream said softly. He sat down on their bed, resting a gentle hand on their shaking form. “Are you alright?”

The only answer they could manage was a pitiful squeak.

“Oh, Ranbob,” he murmured, pulling them close against his chest.

They whimpered without meaning to. He shouldn't have to comfort them, they should have just handled it themself.

“What is it?” he asked softly, stroking a hand over their hair. When they dared to glance upward at his face, it only held concern.

“Nightmare,” they mumbled. “But ‘m fine now. You can go back t’ sleep.”

They could tell it was obvious they were far from fine; tears still slipped down their cheeks, and they shuddered against Dream’s chest.

It had been so long since anyone had held them. Their hands curled into the material of Dream’s shirt without them meaning to, and try as they might, they couldn't quite manage to let go.

“I've got you,” Dream murmured soothingly, beginning to rock them back and forth. “I've got you.”

They shivered, curling into Dream. He was warm and gentle and steady, and if he would really rather stay with them than go back to sleep—they couldn't imagine why, they were a murderer and a monster and he was so much better than them even if he had done bad things too—then they weren't going to refuse.

“Tell me what happened,” Dream said gently. Despite his kind tone, Ranbob was certain it wasn’t a request.

“I dreamed that I killed everyone, which isn’t—isn't that far off from normal nightmares, but then one of them had—” They sobbed. Dream’s hand stroked through their hair. “—then one of them had your face, and it was you, I killed you, I'm so sorry, Dream, I—”

Their voice disintegrated into choked sobs and coughing, and Dream’s arms tightened around them.

“It was just a nightmare,” Dream murmured. “I know you would never hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t, Dream I'm so sorry, I'm so—”

“Shhh,” he soothed. They immediately shut up. “It’s not your fault.”

They whimpered. It felt like their fault. But if Dream said it wasn’t, then they should listen.

“Would it help if I stayed here for the rest of the night?” Dream asked.

Ranbob hesitated. They shouldn't lie—but he was offering, they’d already said he could go back to sleep—but they shouldn't take up so much of his night—

“Yes,” they mumbled without meaning to.

“Then I will.”

“I'm sorry,” they mumbled, already relaxing against Dream. They felt so safe, held there in his arms, and it took conscious effort not to just fall asleep against him.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Dream told them.

They shook their head weakly.

“I have so much to apologize for,” they whispered.

Dream considered.

“This isn't one of them,” he said finally.

They were too close to sleep to argue.

//

When they woke, they didn't know what was happening. There was a warm body pressed against theirs, and it took a moment to realize that that warm body was Dream, asleep next to them.

They froze.

He had an arm loosely wrapped around them, and maybe they should have found it comforting, but after so long alone, they only felt trapped.

Their breathing began to pick up, and they struggled to keep it even. _Don’t wake Dream. Don't wake Dream. Don't wake Dream. Don't wake—_

They couldn't handle this anymore. As slowly as they could manage, they slunk out from under his arm and away. _Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up._

They nearly gasped in relief when they made it to the city hallways, sinking down against the wall and letting their head fall to their hands. Slowly, slowly, their heartbeat began to go back to normal, and their breaths gradually lengthened again.

They were safe.

...They had been safe the whole time.

What was _wrong_ with them?

Ranbob shuddered, both missing the contact and very, very glad it was gone. They wanted Dream to hold them again. They wanted him to never touch them again.

They weren't used to kindness after so long.

(Perhaps, if they had been a little less trusting, they would've been certain it was a trap. Perhaps, if they hadn’t dismissed what Dream had done, they would’ve recognized it from the stories. But instead, they simply loved him. He was untouchable. Above them. A god. How could they argue with his choice to be kind to them?)

They didn't know how long they had sat there, but it was long enough for their foot to fall asleep as they waited for Dream to appear. And appear he did, concern melting into a warm smile when he saw them.

They sprang up, apologies already forming on their tongue, but instead they yelped as they nearly toppled over on unresponsive feet. Dream caught them, holding them securely against his body as they stammered out the now-fragmented apologies.

Dream ran a hand over their hair and they abruptly shut up, leaning into the touch without meaning to.

“I'm not mad,” he said. “I wouldn't get mad unless you do something wrong, okay? And that wasn’t something wrong.”

Ranbob nodded hesitantly. “What…what would be something wrong?”

Dream met their eyes with a neutral expression. He was a whole head taller, and they had never found it even a little bit scary before now.

“I doubt you’ll ever find out,” he said, and smiled. “You’re too good.”

They shivered, leaning towards him without meaning to.

He laughed without malice, putting an arm around their shoulders. The touch was comforting, and they closed their eyes and let their head rest against his shoulder.

//

“What do the history books say about me?” Dream asked.

“Most of them say you were a strong leader,” Ranbob answered.

Their eyes are cast toward the ceiling as they try to remember, and Dream wonders with a flicker of amusement if they're simply putting a positive spin on whatever the books said.

“They said it was your world, and that sometimes you had to be harsh with those who broke the rules. They said you were like a god, and that you were feared and powerful and unstoppable.”

Dream smiled, meeting their eyes as they looked back at him. “They were right about that,” Dream said, and Ranbob relaxed slightly. “There was one boy in particular who liked to challenge me. I won, of course, but he put up quite a fight.”

They nodded slowly. “Tommy?”

“Tommy,” Dream confirmed. “Did he have a room here?”

“They all did,” Ranbob answered, “but only some of the rooms still stand. Tommy’s is not one of them.”

Dream gave them a look of approval, and a small, proud grin spread across their face.

“You said I was feared, right?”

Ranbob nodded.

“Do you fear me?”

Their head tilted slightly to the side as they thought.

“No,” they said finally. “Whatever you do is for a good reason. I wouldn't do anything to make you mad, so I have nothing to fear.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Dream said, smiling at them. “I wouldn't want you to fear me.”

They nodded, and Dream wondered how he had gotten so lucky. They were so easy to manipulate, it wasn’t even a challenge.

“Did the rest of Mizu fear me?”

Ranbob shrugged. “Some of them did. Most of them just hated you. They didn’t like that I disagreed.”

“Disagreed with…” Dream prompted.

“Disagreed with their belief that you were bad. They didn't even make you a room like the others got. I changed that, but only after I killed them all. They thought you were…unnecessarily cruel, and a tyrant.”

He frowned. “I see.”

“I don't think that!” Ranbob hurried to clarify. “They did, and they were wrong! You were a good ruler! They were just scared of you! I know you would never do anything without a good reason!”

“I know,” Dream said, touching their shoulder lightly. He smiled at them. “I know.”

//

“How deep does this city go?” Dream asked, something like awe on his face.

Ranbob stood straighter without meaning to, pride filling them. “Four layers beneath the surface mostly, although it goes down to six in some places.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. “That’s _far_ below the surface.”

They grinned. “It is! It's the easiest place to expand, so new families would live deeper and deeper into the earth.” Their face fell slightly. “I mostly avoid the deeps, though. It's all musty, and the air that gets circulated deep is always kinda stale. And if the lights go out, I don't have any way of fixing them, and there's no natural light down there.”

“You live up by the surface. Was that true before they all died?”

They nodded, pride creeping across their face. “My family is—was descended from one of the original founders, Ranboo. We've been here a very, very long time, so we tend to get surface homes if we want them.”

Ranbob looked over at Dream. His expression held something dark and vicious, and they shrank back as he met their eyes.

“Uh—Dr—Dream?” they stammered.

“I remember Ranboo,” he said lowly.

“Y—y—yes?”

“I didn't like him.”

“I'm sorry,” they said, not quite sure what they were apologizing for.

“You’re fine,” Dream said lightly, an abrupt change from the low, dark voice he'd been talking in before. “You're not him.”

“Oh—o—okay.” They twisted their hands together anxiously, not quite sure what to do with a Dream that had shown the ferocity he'd had in stories. The Dream they knew was friendly and kind and joked around with them. The Dream they knew didn’t spit names like they were rotten on his tongue, didn’t ever have an expression as closed and cold as though his face had become the mask.

“I'm sorry,” Dream said, sighing. He ran a hand over his face, and when he looked back at Ranbob, he just looked tired. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

“You didn't scare me,” they said without thinking, the lie coming out before they could catch it. He shouldn't feel guilty; they must have done something wrong, there was no way it was his fault!

“Well, that's good,” Dream said, and gave them a small smile. They returned it, something light and warm and fluttery in their gut.

He took their hand and began to walk in the direction of the surface layer, his mask hanging loosely at his side. They hurried along, his hand warm in theirs. He felt surprisingly human.

It had been several days and they still got surprised by how warm he was. How real.

“Ranbob?”

They jolted back to reality, embarrassment flooding then at they realized they’d just stopped in the middle of a hallway.

“Got lost in thought, sorry,” they mumbled, ducking their head.

Dream smiled at them warmly.

“It's fine.”

//

Ranbob woke with a scream caught in their throat, and they choked it back with a cough. If they hadn’t woken Dream, they shouldn’t wake him now. They sat up, curling into themself and tucking their knees up against their chest as they tried to calm down.

Their dreams had been full of blood and shouting and terror, but it had ended in Dream condemning the murderer of Mizu—them—and water they couldn't quite get their head out of to breathe.

Shuddering, they clutched at the soft fabric of their blanket. Their breaths still came shallow and ragged, but slowly, slowly, they were calming down.

They flinched hard when Dream spoke, somewhere outside their door.

“You alright?”

A strangled whimper was the only sound that escaped them when they tried to answer. They coughed, then tried again, voice shaky but clear. “’M fine. Nightmare.”

“Oh, those suck,” Dream said, and then hesitated. “Can I come in?”

“If you want to,” they said. “If you want to go back to sleep, though, I’ll be fine.”

He opened the door, mask nowhere in sight. Concern was clear on his face, and he settled next to them and lightly touched their arm.

“What happened?”

They hesitated.

“I dreamed I was drowned,” they eventually said, voice soft.

Dream winced. “Drowning is _not_ a fun death.”

“Yeah,” they said quietly, trying and failing to not lean towards him. They wanted comfort, but didn't dare ask for it.

After a moment, Dream reached out and pulled them into his arms. They let their head fall against the front of his shoulder, a shiver running through them at the contact.

“It's okay,” Dream said, very softly. “You're safe with me.”

They could hear his heartbeat. How was he _mortal?_ How was he not a _god,_ unkillable, utterly invincible?

“You said that like you've drowned before,” they breathed. The moment the words left their mouth, they regretted it—who were they to ask him things like that?—but Dream only laughed.

“I have. Twice, actually.”

“How?” they whispered.

“Y’know, people used to have three lives, did you know?” Dream said, almost conversationally. Like they hadn’t just had a nightmare they woke screaming from.

His chest rumbled against their ear when he spoke. It was oddly comforting.

“Yeah,” they whispered. “The history books say. They don't say why we lost that, though. One of the most common theories is totem magic inverting, but it’s never been proven.”

Dream laughed. “Haven’t heard that one before.” He shook his head. “No, the answer is because of me.”

“…How?” they breathed.

There was a wry twist in Dream’s voice when he spoke again. “I wasn’t very well liked, y’know? Everyone kinda hated me, in fact. Enough that they took two of my lives and locked me away.”

“How dare they,” Ranbob spat, a sudden burst of anger surging through them.

“It's fine,” Dream soothed, stroking a hand over their hair.

They relaxed against his chest, anger replaced by a feeling of safety and comfort.

“So anyway, I was stuck there for a while,” Dream continued. “And eventually, they decided imprisonment wasn’t enough of a punishment, and that they should just kill me one last time instead.”

“Bastards,” they muttered angrily.

Dream laughed. “Easy, Ranbob. They were still my friends. Well, sorta.”

They made a grumbly sound in the back of their throat, but went quiet again anyway.

“And they decided to make a spectacle of it, y’know? They brought me out, with nothing, to a little cage in front of everyone. And they tossed splash poison on me until I couldn’t stand, which—” Dream laughed darkly. “—wasn’t particularly fun.”

“How _dare_ they!” Ranbob burst out, pushing away from Dream’s chest and glaring around at the darkened room.

Dream slowly wrapped his arms around them and brought them back to their spot against his chest. He stroked their hair, and without meaning to, they leaned into the touch.

“So anyway,” he continued after a minute, “the idea was that Tommy would shoot me while I was weak from the poison, and I would be dead forever.”

 _“Tommy,”_ they hissed.

“Tommy,” Dream confirmed, sounding slightly amused. “So he did that, except I didn't die. My heart restarted itself, and the arrow hadn’t even hit anything super vital, so it wasn’t hard to get it out after I left.”

“Didn't they chase you?” Ranbob murmured.

“That they did,” he agreed. “But as it turns out, I'm very good at running, even weak from respawn. They didn’t manage to permanently catch me again, but they tried quite a few things to permanently kill me. The trickiest to escape was them submerging my body in lava, I think. That took a good eight or so respawns to get out of.”

“Holy…” they breathed, awe clear in their voice.

“Yep,” Dream said. “Anyway, they ended up screwing with totem magic, and mixing that with thrown potions or something, I dunno how they made it spread. But instead of making me only have one life, it spread to every single person.”

“Wow,” they murmured. “That’s…”

“I am incredibly hard to kill,” Dream said, sounding amused.

They shivered.

“Your own friends tried to kill you?”

“You say that like you didn't murder the entire population of Mizu,” Dream said mildly.

They flinched. “I'm sorry,” they said quickly. “I shouldn’t have questioned that.”

“It's fine,” Dream said, taking their hand as if for emphasis.

They leaned into him, taking comfort in his warmth. His breath ruffled their hair, and they shivered again.

“Would it help you to not have another nightmare if I stayed here?” Dream asked them.

“I don't know,” they answered quietly. “I…I think so? It might?”

“Then I’ll stay,” he said, and tipped them both backwards.

Ranbob yelped, the feeling of falling sending a spike of panic through them, but after the two of them had just flopped down, they giggled quietly.

Dream seemed amused when they looked at his face. He reached out to stroke their hair again, and they leaned into the touch, eyes slipping closed.

“You’re funny,” Dream murmured.

They were pretty sure it was a compliment.

//

Their first reaction to waking with a warm body next to theirs was panic. The second was disgust that this was the second of two times that they woke up panicked.

“Good morning,” Dream murmured, a slight hint of amusement in his expression.

Ranbob stammered out something that might’ve been a “good morning” if you listened for it.

“You didn't have another nightmare, I take it?” Dream asked, and they ducked their head.

“I didn’t,” they mumbled, embarrassment and shame washing through them like a wave. Dream shouldn't have to come comfort them in the middle of the night. “I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dream said lightly. He smiled at them. “Nightmares aren’t exactly new to me.”

“Oh.” Ranbob didn't know what to say.

“So,” Dream said, sitting up. “What shall we do today?”

“I dunno,” they mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “Whatever you want to do?”

“Alright,” Dream said, standing, and Ranbob mirrored him. “Oh, do you know where I put my mask? I put it down somewhere yesterday, but I don’t remember where.”

They tried to ignore the pang of hurt in their chest when Dream said that. He didn't owe them trust. If they had done something to make him prefer to wear the mask around them, then that was their fault.

“Maybe somewhere between where you slept and my room?” they suggested.

“Oh, I wasn’t asleep the first half of the night,” Dream said. “I was just kinda wandering around, y’know?”

“Oh,” Ranbob said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Dream laughed. “Nah, probably not.”

“Oh, okay.”

He wandered out into the city’s hallways, and they followed him. His mask was on a crate half a hallway down, and Ranbob couldn't help but feel relieved when he simply tied the straps to his jacket instead of covering his face with it.

“Have you ever seen the stars, Ranbob?” Dream asked.

They shook their head. “Only pictures.”

Dream grinned. “I’ll show you the stars tonight, then.”

They couldn't keep a grin from their own face. “You don't have to,” they said weakly.

“But I want to,” Dream returned, lightly touching their shoulder.

They shivered. “Alright, then, I suppose that's a plan?”

“Of course!” Dream said, and grinned.

//

“So, what's the idea with the idol rooms, anyway?” Dream asked. “And why were they so upset you made me one?”

“Space is in short supply down here,” they explained, tugging at their sleeves self-consciously. “The others were all given rooms as a sign of respect, and as a relic of the past, I think. They all were surface rooms, too, although they were made before we expanded deeper, so I suppose that's to be expected.”

“My room’s not a surface room,” he said mildly, but they still flinched.

“No, it was—it was a storage room,” they admitted, ashamed. “Before. It was the only room I could get my hands on, and after they were all dead, it seemed—it seemed wrong to move it.” They rubbed at the scar on their palm, before hastily adding, “But I can move it now, if you'd like!”

“Nah, I don't mind that much,” Dream said.

“I can move it,” they said again, taking a step in the direction of the room.

Dream shook his head. “Leave it, it's fine. I’d rather spend time with you.”

Ranbob wondered what they’d done to deserve this.

“Thank you,” they said, very softly.

Dream laughed, touching their shoulder. “No need to thank me. You're entertaining.”

“Th—” They bit off the thanks before it got halfway through, ducking their head in embarrassment. Dream laughed.

“What rooms do still stand?” he asked.

“Yours, George’s, Sapnap’s, Bad’s, and a bunch of the smaller members who didn't seem very involved,” they answered promptly.

“Ranboo’s?”

“Gone.”

They thought they could see approval on Dream’s face, but didn't dare ask to confirm it.

“Is there a library with the history books?” he asked. “I’d like to see what they say.”

“They're not very forgiving, in what they say about you,” Ranbob said hastily.

“I'm still curious,” Dream said. “Can you lead me there?”

So they did, and they tried to hide the pride they felt at the impressed look on Dream’s face. The first library was one of the nicest rooms, in their opinion, with high ceilings of glass and many, many books.

Supposedly, it had been very difficult to keep the books dry in the early years.

“Here’s the section on you and the others,” Ranbob said, gesturing at one of the shelves.

Dream pulled a book off the shelf and started flipping through it. Ranbob simply hovered nearby, anxiously rubbing the scar on their palm, as he skimmed through the history book.

They startled when he burst out laughing.

“Fundy was a _pet?”_ Dream laughed.

Ranbob touched the back of their neck self-consciously. “There's not much on him,” they said apologetically.

“Oh, that’s hilarious,” he said. “A _pet_...He was my fiancé, for a while at least. He was _mostly_ human.”

Shame mixed with something fierce and protective surged through them.

“Oh,” they said.

“Not your fault,” Dream said, smiling gently at them. “You didn't write these books.”

“My ancestors did, though,” they mumbled.

“Still,” he said.

//

“I've never been up here,” Ranbob said by way of explanation. They knew they should just follow Dream up the ladder to the surface, knew that that's what he wanted them to do, but they couldn't quite make themself move.

Dream smiled at them gently. “That's okay,” he said. “I'm right here, you're okay.”

They shuffled back and forth anxiously, rubbing at the scar on their palm. It would take less than a minute of their time to climb the ladder, and then they’d be on the surface.

And yet they couldn’t make themself take a step forward.

“Come on,” Dream said, slightly less gently.

He stepped forward and took their hand, pulling them forward to the base of the ladder. They stumbled when he let go, putting a hand on the ladder to steady themself but jerking back as if burned when they registered.

“Ranbob,” Dream said, something frustrated showing on his face. It scared them, just a little. “It's not that hard.”

“I'm sorry,” they blurted, wrapping their arms around themself protectively. Dream sighed.

“Come on,” he said tiredly. He pulled them forward again and put their hand on the ladder.

His hand was heavy and warm on theirs, and it held their hand on the rung of the ladder. They couldn’t have let go even if they tried.

They shuddered, and forced themself to put their other hand on the ladder. Then step onto it. And slowly, painfully, every bone in their body fighting to go back down to the familiar city hallways, they began to climb.

They were trembling when they reached the top, and tried to step off the ladder only to find themself frozen in place.

Dream sighed, halfway up the ladder below them.

“Get off the ladder,” he said, and it wasn’t a request.

Ranbob fell more than stepped off, their back hitting the old stone bricks with a thump. They just lay there, shaking, holding themself tightly and trying to calm down.

Dream made it all the way up and crouched down next to them.

“You good?” he asked.

They shook their head.

“Aw,” he murmured, sympathy dripping from his voice, and slipped an arm beneath their shoulders. He lifted them into a sitting position, and settled next to them.

“It’s…a bit much,” Ranbob managed. Their voice sounded strangled and breathy.

“Yeah, I bet,” Dream murmured. He stroked a hand over their hair, and they leaned into the touch without meaning to. “Let's go outside now, yeah?”

They couldn't answer, but that was okay, because he wasn't waiting for them to. He grabbed their hand and pulled them to their feet, holding them against his body securely when they stumbled, and led them outside.

The sky was dark like the ocean, but specks of light were scattered across the vast expanse like pale sand. It looked almost like a mirror of Mizu, lights everywhere, but achingly cold instead of warm and familiar. The moon shone down, full and silvery white, causing little fragments of reflected white on the waves.

“Wow,” they breathed, and Dream huffed a laugh by their ear.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” he said, and they found themself nodding.

He settled himself on the stone bricks, bringing them down with him. They were still held close to him, but it was cold on the surface, and they found themselves leaning into the warmth without meaning to.

“Better than you expected?” Dream asked, grinning mischievously.

They nodded.

“This is incredible,” they whispered, and Dream smiled in a self-satisfied way.

“I knew you'd like it,” he said, and they nodded.

Then they shivered as a burst of cool air slapped them in the face, and they opened their mouth to ask what—

….Oh. This was wind.

Dream snorted, and when they looked up at him, his face held amusement.

“Not used to the wind?” he asked teasingly, and they shook their head, embarrassed.

It was _wind_. Of course it was wind. They should’ve known that, but they didn’t, and now they had nearly asked what wind was not only in front of, but to, Dream.

“Does it usually look like this?” Ranbob asked hesitantly.

Dream nodded. “Unless it's cloudy. Then it's just dark.”

“It looks like someone scattered glowing sand across the sky,” they said without thinking, and he laughed.

“It does, doesn't it,” Dream said.

They both fell silent, sitting together watching the sky.

The cold from the air and the stone beneath them began to seep into Ranbob despite their shivering, and they fought the urge to curl into Dream. They hadn’t expected the surface to be so cold.

“You alright?” Dream asked, and they nodded.

“Just—just cold,” they stuttered, and he made a sympathetic noise.

“C’mere,” he said. They stiffened in surprise as Dream pulled them close to him until they were practically sitting on him, and he wrapped his arms around them.

Dream was so _warm,_ and try as they might, they couldn't keep from leaning into him and soaking up the warmth and comforting touch.

“Is that better?” he asked, and they nodded. He smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

“Is it always this cold?” they murmured, and Dream laughed.

“It’s summer, Ranbob,” he said. “It gets much colder in winter.”

“I'm not sure I like the surface, then,” they murmured.

Dream snorted. “In the daytime it's warmer,” he said, “and the same with on land. It's just ‘cause we’re out at sea during the night that it's so cold.”

“Oh,” they said, “oh yeah. I think we learned that at one point, in school.”

“That wasn’t a _thing_ when I was little,” Dream said.

“Oh,” they said, and they suddenly remembered with a shiver how much older and more powerful he was. But they trusted him. He would never do anything to hurt them without a reason. “It’s…very hard to imagine you being a kid,” they continued after a moment.

Dream snorted. “I barely remember it myself,” he said. “Although I’m sure even then it was just me, George, and Sapnap, causing chaos and wreaking havoc and all that.”

“Mm,” they said, trying to prompt him to go on without actually asking. They felt bad for even doing that, but it had already been done.

Dream laughed before continuing.

“I remember Sap lost a life, one time,” he said. “We were being reckless idiots, y’know, the way teenagers are? Not aware of their own mortality sometimes.”

Ranbob thought of the time some of the older teenagers had gone off to conquer an old ocean temple, back when they were fourteen and a coward. They nodded, remembering how eight had left and only seven had come back.

Adventuring had been forbidden to anyone under twenty, after that.

“And anyway,” Dream continued, “we decided to explore a nether fortress. And we’d somehow scrounged up a totem and brought it with us, but George had it when stuff went wrong and he couldn't pass it to Sapnap in time.” He snorted. “Perhaps Sapnap should’ve just kept it anyway. Protective dumbass.”

They suddenly wished, with a powerful, lonely ache, that someone would speak fondly about them like that. But they had killed the only person who voluntarily hung around them, so really, it was their own fault.

“A wither skeleton came out of nowhere and made a beeline straight for George—d’you know that monsters of all kinds seemed to have a special hatred for George? He’d be the first targeted when we went anywhere dangerous, it was hilarious and concerning at the same time.”

They stayed quiet.

“So anyway, it went straight for George, and I think Sapnap forgot George had a totem? Because he threw himself right in front of the evil thing’s sword and took a wither wound straight to the chest before I could cut the thing apart.”

Dream laughed, and he suddenly sounded unbearably lonely. Ranbob wanted to tell him that he wasn’t alone anymore, but who were they to presume to read him like that? So they didn’t.

“We were so fucking worried, y’know? George carried Sap out of the fortress, and like the dumbasses we were, we hadn’t brought anything to counter it, not regen potions or healing or anything. And he had dropped the totem in the fortress, so we couldn't give it to Sapnap or anything, so he just died. And it was only his first life, so he was fine, but we didn’t dare to go into another fortress for months.”

“Wow,” they breathed. “Now he would’ve just… _died.”_

“I know,” Dream said, and winced. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” they said without thinking. They twitched when they realized how close to an order it felt, how wrong to tell Dream to do something, but he simply nodded.

“Good to know.”

And they relaxed to know that he hadn't gotten mad at them for it. Although, he was already kinder than they expected, so maybe they deserved to face his anger at some point to balance it out.

“Do you miss them?” Ranbob said suddenly, and then cursed themself for talking without thinking. They shouldn’t ask him things like that, what was _wrong_ with them?

“Yes,” Dream said softly. “They were…probably the first people I ever loved. And the last, for a very long time.”

They didn't know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” they tried.

Dream shrugged, grinning lopsidedly at them. It seemed an abrupt change, and they barely held in a wince.

“Easier to not get attached, y’know?” he said casually. “Immortality can fucking hurt if you're not prepared for it.”

“I'm sorry,” they said again, a little quieter.

Dream rested his head on top of theirs. “It's fine. I’ve adapted.”

“Still,” they said softly. “I'm sorry.”

He laughed quietly. “You’re sweet. Thank you.”

 _No,_ they thought, _I murdered the one person that cared about me along with everyone else. Sweet isn't the right word for me._

“Anything,” they said instead, “for you.”

Dream nodded, his breath ruffling their hair. “I'll keep that in mind.”

They had been so caught up in listening to Dream talk that they hadn’t noticed a cloud drifting across the sky until it covered the moon, and they startled at the sudden wash of darkness.

Dream laughed as they ducked their head in embarrassment.

“Scared of a shadow?” he teased, and they made a grumbly noise in response.

“Maybe…” they mumbled, and he laughed again, running a hand through their hair.

They relaxed at the touch, slowly leaning back against Dream as he stroked their hair. It was embarrassingly soothing, and they found their eyes beginning to slip closed. It wasn’t until they were almost asleep that he stopped, and they made an unhappy mumbly sound without meaning to.

Dream laughed quietly.

“Come on,” he murmured, picking them up easily, “you’re falling asleep.”

The trip back came in little patches of consciousness as they slipped in and out of a doze-like haze. The ladder—they dully wondered how he had managed it while carrying them—and then hallways lit with rows of glowstone lamps, and then their room.

Dream set them down on their bed and made to leave, but they made a pitiful little whimper that they were sure they would regret later, and he laughed quietly before coming to lie down next to them and pull them close.

The warmth was soothing, and Dream’s hand was back in their hair, and they were asleep before they knew it.

//

It was a good thing Dream wasn't there when they woke, Ranbob decided, because they weren't sure they could face him after the night before.

( _Why?_ a tiny thread of thought in the back of their mind questioned. It's not like they’d done anything Dream didn't want them to.)

They chose to ignore the conclusion it was drawing—they weren’t scared of _closeness,_ that was ridiculous, they were simply instinctively rejecting how easily they slipped into wanting to be held by Dream, that was all, that was all, of course, it was just that they didn't think it was right—and decided that it was just embarrassment at how they’d acted.

That was all.

That they knew how to deal with.

They knew why Dream wore a mask now, they thought. Emotions were flighty little bastards.

But as it turned out, they didn’t have to face Dream, because when they stepped into the city’s hallways, he was nowhere to be found. _It doesn't bother me,_ they tried to tell themself. _I don’t miss Dream. I saw him last night._

“Dream?” Ranbob called quietly, hesitantly.

Mizu was silent aside from the hum of the air filter and the soft sound of their footsteps.

“Dream?”

//

 _This is fine,_ they tried to tell themself, wandering the halls.

“This is fine,” they muttered, rubbing at the scar on their palm. “He's just wandered off somewhere, he’ll come back, he hasn’t left m—” Their voice broke. “He hasn’t left me, he's just wandering, that's all. That's all. That's all.”

After half a week of company and kind touches and casual conversation, the thought of returning to isolation nearly stole the air from their lungs. They weren’t sure they could bear another five years of solitude.

“Dream?” they called again.

There was no response from the empty halls. Anxiety twisted in their gut.

To distract themself, they went to the park room and climbed the tree until they could reach up and touch the glass ceiling. The tree was a constant; they’d gone along with a group of friends up into its heights, and again once they were alone.

(Not their friends, but their friend’s friends, a group of chaotic boys who were regarded as troublemakers, but affectionately. The six of them had climbed to the top of the tree and messed around, teasing and daring each other and scrambling around in the branches of the tree.

“I dare you to kiss him,” one of them had said, laughing, and Ranbob had met amused orange eyes and ducked their head.

“No way,” they said, face burning—thank the gods they weren't human—and everyone, including them, had laughed.)

“Nothing’s wrong,” they mumbled, tracing the edge of a leaf. “Dream’s fine. He’ll come back.”

Then they shook their head.

“He's not obligated to stay! What is wrong with—What am I _saying,"_ they exclaimed, grip tighter than necessary on the branches, “he doesn't have to stay here, I'll be fine if he doesn’t, he can leave if he wants, he’s the one in charge here, not me.”

Something in their chest hurt at the thought of Dream leaving. They pushed it down.

“He doesn't have to stay!” they burst out, and flung their hands up in frustration.

Too late, they realized nothing was holding them up in the tree as they started to fall, and a startled screech tore from their throat as they tumbled to the ground. They let out a scream of pain as their arm exploded into agony, and after a good few minutes, it subsided enough for them to wonder if they’d broken it.

Their chest was heaving as they panted in pain, and they gritted their teeth and tried to sit up.

Their vision tunneled as their arm burst into a concentrated ball of pain, and they lay back on the ground, trembling and biting back tiny whimpers.

Dully, they realized tears had slipped from their eyes and run down their temples into their hair. They shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Dream finding them like this. A pathetic heap on the ground, unable to deal with the pain long enough to sit up or inspect the damage or anything.

“Okay,” they whispered, “I’m gonna reach over, and touch different parts of my hurt arm, and I'm not going to scream or pass out or anything.”

Slowly, slowly, they crossed their left arm across their body to touch their other one. Carefully, they began to lightly press on different parts on their arm to see what parts hurt more.

A pained hiss escaped them as they touched a certain part of their right forearm, and it took all their self-control to stay still and not accidentally damage their arm worse.

No other part of their arm hurt that much, though, so they concluded that the damage was just in that part. That was good. That was good.

“Now I'm gonna,” they whispered shakily, “now I'm gonna sit up, and I'm gonna tuck my arm across my body so I don’t jostle it, and then I'm gonna stand up and go fix my arm.”

Ranbob tried to sit up, and promptly yelled in pain as they accidentally knocked their hurt arm into the ground.

“Okay,” they gasped, “be more careful. I can do that. I can do that.”

It took three more tries, but eventually they managed to sit up with their arm across their chest. Tear tracks covered their face, and their entire body was trembling in pain, but they had managed to sit up, and that must count for something, right?

“Okay,” they breathed, “okay. Okay, okay, okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I’m gonna stand up and go fix my arm and I'll be okay. I’ll be okay. It's just a broken arm. I'll be okay.”

They tried to stand up and found they could not make themself move.

“Count of three, then I'll do it,” Ranbob breathed. “Three, two, one—”

A sob tore its way from their throat as they quickly stood, and more tears coursed down their face, but then the pain subsided a bit and they could think again.

“Oh, this is horrible,” they mumbled, struggling to push down the pain and function.

“Okay,” they breathed, turning to stare at the door to the park room, “nearest medical supplies are…by the steps down to layer two. I'll go there, and then I'll fix my arm. It should only take a few minutes to get there, okay, yeah, yeah, I'll get there and then it'll all be okay. It'll all be okay.”

Unfortunately, they neglected to think about the fact that it would only take a few minutes to walk there in _normal_ conditions. Instead, they spent fifteen agonizing minutes slowly making their way down the halls, clutching their injured arm to their chest and trying not to cry out in pain.

Eventually, eventually, they made it and nearly let a relieved sob.

“Okay, I'm here, I'm here, I’ll—I’ll take some sort of painkiller to be able to think, I'm sure there are some of those left, and then I’ll fix my arm. Okay. Okay. That's what I’ll—”

Ranbob nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard a wordless call from the room across the hall, and they let out a quiet hiss of pain as they accidentally jostled their hurt arm. Turning to face the room, they took deep breaths, trying to steady their voice enough to not sound as hurt as they were.

“Dream?” they called.

There was no response.

Concern twisted in their gut, and they tried to push it down.

“I'll come help,” they called, and crossed the hallway carefully.

They opened the door to the room his voice was coming from, not sure what they were expecting, but at first glance, Dream didn't appear to be there.

“Dream?” they called.

“A closet fell on top of me and now I'm stuck,” Dream said, voice shaky, and it was all Ranbob could do to bite back a surprised laugh.

“Do you—do you need help?” they asked.

“Yes,” he said. His voice was thin and wavery.

They twitched, and a burst of pain shot through their arm at the movement.

Fuck.

Still, Dream was stuck, and getting him out took priority. So they gritted their teeth against the pain and hooked the fingers of their left hand under the hinge side of the closet and lifted. It wasn’t heavy, but with their broken arm unsupported, they could barely manage to lift it.

After an agonizing ten seconds of struggle, they managed to flip it over and off of Dream, who was sprawled on the floor underneath a pile of thick blankets. He fought his way out of the fabric in only a few seconds, nearly throwing himself at Ranbob and clinging to them tightly.

Their mouth opened in a silent scream as Dream’s body pressed against their broken arm. He was shaking, hiding his face in the crook of their neck, and ordinarily they would’ve been concerned for him but right now it was all they could do to not scream.

“I don’t like small spaces,” Dream muttered, leaning into them harder. Another wave of pain shot through their arm. “Or dark ones. And I couldn't breathe properly.”

Ranbob shuddered, gasping in pain. They wanted to help Dream, they really did, but they could barely think, let alone speak.

The edges of their vision filled with dark green speckles, like when they stood up too fast, and dully they wondered if they were going to pass out.

And then they didn't wonder anymore.

//

They woke on the floor, a blanket tossed over them haphazardly. Dream was curled into himself in the corner, mumbling under his breath and eyes distant, and concern flashed through them.

“Dream?” they said softly, sitting up, but they'd forgotten about their broken arm and a strangled, pained yelp escaped them.

He didn't look over or even seem to hear it, just remained sitting there blankly.

“Okay,” Ranbob murmured, “I'll fix my arm, and then I'll help Dream. That's what I'll do. Okay. Okay.”

They slowly, carefully got to their feet and crossed the hall, struggling with the door to the medical room for a few moments before managing to open it. They crossed the room to where the bandages were kept—gods, they hoped they were doing the right thing, they'd never had to deal with a broken bone before—and brought a roll out, then retrieved a ruler.

Carefully, biting back tiny sounds of pain, they laid their arm on a table and began to secure the ruler to their forearm with the bandages. A tear rolled down their face, but they ignored it.

After what could’ve been either an eternity or only a few minutes, the only thing left was to secure their arm across their chest to keep it still. So they took a smallish, hole-filled blanket and cut it apart into a makeshift sling, hands trembling from the pain.

Eventually, they managed to tie it over their shoulder and tuck their broken arm into it, and satisfaction filled them. They had done this.

It ebbed when they took a step and stumbled on unsteady legs, accidentally jostling their arm, but they got their balance back after another few seconds and managed to cross the hall back to where they’d left Dream.

He was right where they’d left him, knees tucked up against his chest and arms wrapped around himself protectively. His breaths came quick and shallow, and concern flashed through them.

“Dream, are you okay?” Ranbob asked softly.

No response. They weren't sure he’d even heard.

They crept a few steps closer, hand hovering awkwardly over his arm as they debated whether they should touch him or not. And then they did, trembling fingers skimming over his shoulder, and he jerked back so hard his head nearly hit the wall.

“Dream, Dream, it's okay, it's just me,” Ranbob hurried to tell him, left hand raised placatingly. “You're okay, it's just me, it's okay.”

A distrustful look crossed Dream’s face as his eyes caught on their face, but then he relaxed slightly, slowly nodding.

“What happened?” he said, and they tried and failed to hold back a wince at the scratchy, raspy undertone in his voice.

“You got stuck under a closet, and I don't know how long you were stuck before I got you out,” Ranbob explained.

Dream’s face crinkled, and his hand came up to wipe tears off his face that Ranbob hadn’t even noticed were there.

“You didn't see that,” he said lowly.

“I didn't see it,” they agreed.

“Good,” Dream said. “Now get out. I'll come find you when I'm ready.”

They nodded, backing quickly out of the room. As they started down the hallway, they could faintly hear Dream start talking inaudibly.

//

They woke with tears running down their face and loneliness aching in their chest. Dream was right there, one arm tucked around them, but they felt so alone they could barely stand it.

Their dreams had been filled with orange eyes and sharp teeth bared in a grin and happiness, and they couldn't bear to have that ripped away by the waking world.

A tiny whimper caught in their throat and they pressed themself back into Dream, taking comfort in his presence and the even rise and fall of his chest. Their arm hurt, but they ignored it, hiding their face in his soft green hoodie and trembling.

Fuck, they missed him. They missed everyone they had loved, their deaths staining Ranbob’s hands with invisible blood.

Dream had been worth it, they told themself, and they could just barely manage to make themself believe it was true.

“You ‘kay?” Dream mumbled, one eye just barely open.

“’M fine,” they managed, and maybe they even managed to make it sound convincing, because Dream nodded, wrapped his arms around them tighter, and closed his eyes again.

The touch soothed an ache in their heart, and they shivered.

“Do you ever miss anyone?” Ranbob whispered without thinking; the moment the words left their tongue they wanted to take it back, but it had already been said.

“Yes,” Dream murmured, “I do.”

He opened his eyes, surveying them neutrally, seeming much more awake than he had been a moment ago. His fingers tapped absentmindedly on their shoulder, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Do you regret what you did?”

And for a moment, Ranbob couldn’t breathe.

Did they regret it? They’d never thought about it before. In fact, they usually tried to avoid that train of thought, but they couldn’t lie to Dream.

“I don't know,” they whispered. “I think so. I—I don't want to be alone. I killed everyone. I—“

Their words twisted into a choked sob.

“I killed everyone I loved. That loved me. I killed them all, I’m—I’m a monster.”

When they met Dream’s eyes, his mouth was twisted in a wry smile. He seemed a strange combination of familiarly soothing and terrifyingly unknown.

“You're not worse than me,” Dream said, and his eyes—although the same light green-grey as always—suddenly seemed full of shadows. His face still held that wry, knowing, terrifying expression.

“All the bad things you did were justified,” Ranbob tried, a waver in their voice that they tried and failed to shake.

“Were they?” Dream murmured. Ranbob shivered. “You’re the only who would think so. Although, I suppose that makes sense. You killed your whole city.”

They tried to ignore the tiny flicker of hurt that spiked through them.

“How could you have done anything worse than that?” they breathed.

Dream laughed harshly. They flinched.

“Not worse on a grand level—Well. Only one thing worse on a grand level. But on a personal level?”

Fear thrilled through Ranbob, and for the first time, they realized Dream might not be the safest to be around. But they immediately dismissed the thought; it was Dream.

“On a personal level,” Dream murmured, breath warm against their ear, “I did things that would haunt you forever had the roles been reversed.”

A tiny, scared, surprised huff of breath escaped them, and Dream laughed.

“I'm scaring you,” he said, and it wasn't a question. They nodded anyway. “Here,” Dream said, gentler, running a hand over their hair. “Go to sleep.”

And they did.

//

Perhaps it was a good thing, Ranbob thought when they woke, that Dream had already wandered off. They weren't sure if they could face him after the night before.

They twitched as they realized how similar that was to yesterday, and a tiny twist of anxiety shivered through them.

“Dream?” they called softly, footsteps quiet as they entered the hallways. “Dream, where are you?”

Nothing.

“Dream?” they called again, louder. Mizu’s hallways carried sound well; back when the city had been full of life, there had to be padding on the walls to prevent it getting too loud.

“Yes?” came the response, and they immediately relaxed. Dream was here. He hadn't gotten stuck or hurt or lost or anything, and he had answered, so they knew he didn't mind being found.

“Wondered where you were,” they explained, and as if on cue, Dream rounded a corner and appeared down one of the hallways.

“Right here, of course,” Dream said, grinning.

They laughed. “I can see that.”

The teasing exchange still felt foreign on their tongue, but they felt safe with Dream. And he didn't seem to mind; he was so easygoing, so cheerful and friendly.

Except when he isn't, their mind whispered, but they dismissed it. They could trust Dream. He wouldn't hurt them without a good reason, and they wouldn't do anything to cause that.

“What do you usually do around here?” Dream asked them after a moment. “I'm bored.”

“Check the surface layer for any faults, check the farms and such, read stuff in the library—not that I haven’t read everything there already, but it's something to do—occasionally check the lower layers for faults…a lot of upkeep stuff, really.”

“Don't you do anything for fun?”

They shrugged. “Not much to do in that regard.”

A thoughtful look crossed Dream’s face. “Well, then. Would you _like_ to do something fun?”

Ranbob tilted their head curiously. “Like what?”

“Did your city still play stuff like hide and seek? Mizu seems great for that.”

“That's, that's a kid’s game,” they protested, but weakly.

“So? It's not like anyone's around to mock us for it.”

They opened their mouth to argue, then closed it. This was Dream. He wouldn't mock them. Hell, he _suggested_ it.

“Okay,” they said finally, and Dream grinned.

“Great!” he said. “You hide first, and I'll come find you in…a minute?”

Ranbob nodded, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. “A minute sounds good.”

“Alright, go hide!” Dream said, covering his eyes and beginning to count.

They hurried down a hallway they were pretty sure Dream hadn't gone down—it wasn’t _cheating,_ just giving themself more time—and tucked themself into a barrel on its side in a corner, careful to not bend their broken arm. The lid was slightly skewed off to let air in, but it was hard to notice.

“Ranbob, where are you?” came the singsong call, echoing through the hallways. They curled tighter into themself, the wooden frame of the barrel digging into their spine uncomfortably.

_Hiding, a sword in hand and blood drying on their face, the entire city looking for them. Well, not the entire city; most of them had been taken out by poison in their food. But there was still a good thirty-odd people looking for them, and they couldn't stop shaking._

_Footsteps passed the entrance to the hallway they were hiding in, and they shuddered as the sound faded into the distance._

_How many people had they killed? How many had they damned to save themself? They were a monster, they knew, but they didn't want to be banished. Mizu was their home; surely it was fair to want to stay?_

A tiny choked noise escaped them; fear made their limbs stiff and still like rocks, heart hammering in their chest. Their breaths came quick and shallow—they were too loud, someone was going to hear—and they pressed their left hand over their open mouth to try to stifle it.

_“Why did you do this?” someone called, and instantly sickening realization flashed through them. They were going to have to kill him. They were going to have to kill him. “Ranbob, where did you go?”_

“Ranbob, where’d you go?” Dream called, and his footsteps turned down their hallway.

They couldn't help but bite down on their hand, trying to ground themself. They were safe. They were safe.

Dream was going to kill them.

_“If you come out, maybe they'll let you off lightly? I—I don't want to have to kill you, please come out and surrender and I'll try to make them go lightly on you.”_

Where had their sword gone? No—they didn't have a sword, they hadn't touched one in years, they were playing a game and they were safe and they weren’t going to be hurt if they were found—

They were going to _die_ —

“Are you here?” a voice called, and Ranbob didn't know if they were imagining it or not. The lid to the barrel they were hiding in began to open.

Panic made them lightheaded, and they tensed even more, ready to fight or run or anything—

“Found you!” Dream crowed.

“Please don't hurt me,” they sobbed, cowering—where was their sword—they didn't have a sword, they were going to die—

A light hand fell on their shoulder, and they flinched so hard they hit their head on the barrel.

“Don't hurt me,” they whimpered, shuddering.

“Hey, hey, shhh,” Dream soothed, and they looked up into his green-grey eyes.

It was Dream. It was Dream. It was just Dream.

//

“Dream,” they said brokenly, reaching up with their left hand, “Dream, Dream, you're here, help me, I’m going to die, they're going to kill me, Dream!”

“No one's going to kill you,” Dream said, taking their hand in his. He pulled them up and lifted more than guided them out of the barrel, and they collapsed against his chest, trembling.

“You're okay,” Dream murmured. “You're safe.”

They shuddered, holding tightly to his hoodie. He rubbed soothing circles on their back, murmuring a steady stream of reassurances as they trembled.

“They were going to kill me,” Ranbob whispered.

“No one’s going to kill you,” Dream said steadily. “No one's going to kill you. Even if they were, I’d protect you.”

Not that this had been his plan when he'd suggested they play hide and seek, he genuinely had just been bored, but hey. If an opportunity arose, he wasn't going to turn it down.

They sobbed, and Dream hid his smile in their hair.

“It's okay,” he murmured.

Soon he'd actually get them grounded, of course, but for now he would just let them build the association of him and comfort, of safety.

“It was just a game,” they cried.

“You're safe,” he murmured, holding them securely against his chest. They were shaking like a leaf. “What did you think was happening?”

“Banishment,” they sobbed, “before it, they were looking for me, I had to kill them, I had to kill them—”

“Shhh,” Dream soothed. “You're here, with me. Try to breathe, okay? You're okay.”

They shuddered, clinging tighter to his hoodie.

“C'mon, breathe,” Dream said, careful to keep his voice even and gentle. He took their left hand and held it against his chest to feel it rise and fall. “Like I am, yeah? You're okay.”

It was a good few minutes before Ranbob had calmed down, and Dream was mildly surprised he'd had the patience for that. Regardless, they were still shaking and scared, even if they weren't still panicking, so he settled himself down against the wall and brought them with him.

“I didn’t know what was happening,” they whispered shakily, leaning their head against his chest.

“Yeah,” Dream murmured, “that happens sometimes.”

He cast his mind around for a moment, digging through his memories for a story to tell; not that he actually cared if it helped them or not, but the more they associated him with safety and comfort, the easier it would be for him later.

He settled on a moment he remembered vividly, despite how long ago it happened. Fuck, he'd been a _wreck_ when he got out of the prison as first, hadn’t he? Perhaps he could tell them some of that story.

“Y'know how I told you the others locked me up, for a long time?”

Despite the content of the story, he didn't feel even the slightest bit unsafe. Ranbob wasn’t a threat. Even if they wanted to, he doubted they could manage to even hold a weapon steady, let alone actually hurt him with one.

They nodded, and Dream continued on.

“So, I told you that they tried to kill me again, right? Yeah. Yeah. They tried to kill me, and it didn't work, and I escaped. And they followed, but after—a year, I think? Was that a year? Maybe three. Somewhere between a month and five or so years, but probably closer to three or four.”

He noticed them looking up at him confusedly, and offered them a grin.

“Time’s hard after so long alive,” he said wryly. “Anyway, once they stopped chasing me, I was free to do whatever, pretty much. So I wandered for a while, but I was still used to being—being chased.”

With a shiver, he remembered how the nightmares hadn’t faded until decades later. Even still, centuries later, he still got occasional nightmares and panic attacks and flashbacks.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. That hellscape of a prison wasn’t enough to break him, and their mistake was trying to kill him.

Oh, he’d had his revenge.

“Used to being chased?” Ranbob prompted, very softly.

Dream shook his head. This story ended in violence; perhaps not the best for calming them down.

“Hard to remember,” he said instead, and they nodded.

“I get that too.”

Dream let his head rest on theirs and felt a little more tension seep out of their body.

“We've both done and been through some bad shit, huh?” he murmured, and they nodded.

“I murdered—” They let out a wavering breath. “I murdered so many people, I—”

Their whole body shuddered, and a tiny, high-pitched sound replaced their words.

“I murdered so many people,” they whimpered, and they sobbed, clinging to Dream with one trembling hand.

“Oh,” Dream murmured, “oh Ranbob. It's okay, it's okay. You did the right thing.”

At this, they froze, and looked up at him with hope written across their face.

“I did?”

“You did,” he said, and they broke down into tears.

//

They weren't calm enough to speak again for somewhere between ten minutes and an eternity, but the entire time, Dream was murmuring to them and stroking their hair, and they'd never felt so safe.

(Well. Excluding the times before they murdered everyone. _Safe_ used to be their default feeling, but somewhere along the line they'd forgotten that.

It would do them good to remember it, but memory had never been their strong suit.)

//

“I'm bored,” Dream announced suddenly, an hour or two later.

“What do you want to do?” Ranbob asked, standing and turning to face him. Dream mirrored them.

He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe go up to the surface? I'm not used to being underground this much. The air is so still.”

They winced. “I'm used to it,” they said softly—not quite defensively, but one step away from it—and then ducked their head as it registered that they'd disagreed with Dream.

“I'm not,” Dream said again. He grabbed their left hand and began pulling them along the hallways that led to the surface, and they stumbled before recovering their balance.

They hesitated at the ladder, their left hand drifting to touch their right, held against their chest. “How am I…”

Dream laughed, giving them a reassuring smile. He reached out and touched their shoulder, and they shivered.

“I'll help you up,” he said, and they nodded. They trusted him.

He wrapped an arm around their back and held them close against his body, somehow managing to climb the ladder one-handedly and half-carrying them.

A wave of cold air hit them as soon as they stepped out of the sheltered nook the top of the ladder led to. It was raining, grey skies and grey sea and grey, cold, loud rain.

Ranbob took a half-step back without meaning to, at the same moment Dream grinned, wild and joyful. He paced out into the rain, tipping his head up and letting the rain drench his hair and clothes in seconds.

“Is that safe?”

The question was voiced before they even knew they were going to ask it, and they cringed back in embarrassment. It was just _rain_.

Dream laughed. “’Course it's safe!”

He practically skipped back over to them, grabbing their good hand. His skin was wet and cold, and they twitched. He pulled them out into the rain with him, and they hunched into themself, tipping their head down to keep the rain off their face.

It was colder than they’d expected, and shivers started up in their limbs. Their jacket was soaked, clinging to them and doing absolutely nothing to block out the biting wind.

Ranbob looked up at Dream, and it seemed like he didn't even feel the cold. He was laughing, head tipped back and rain running down his face. His green hoodie was hanging heavy on him, four shades darker and dripping.

“Dream,” they said quietly, but they didn't think they were heard over the rain. They tried again. “Dream!”

He looked down at them, laughter fading to just a wild grin. “What is it?”

“Dream, it’s—it’s _cold_ out here,” they said, and as if on cue, a particularly biting gust of wind blew past them.

Dream laughed. “Ranbob, that's the fun of it! It's cold and wet and wild!”

They shook their head, almost hesitantly. “I—I don't think I like it.”

Dream’s face fell, the wild joy giving way to irritation. They took an instinctive half-step back, but Dream grabbed their hand and pulled them back toward him again.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, frowning, “it's just a little water. It's not like it hurts you.”

They shuffled back and forth, shivering, tugging at the lowest button of their jacket anxiously.

“It—it doesn’t, no, but it's cold, and I’m not used to rain, and it's so _windy,_ Dream, I—”

“You're overreacting,” Dream said firmly. They cringed. After a moment, his expression softened. “We’ll just stay out here a little bit longer, then go inside, how ‘bout that?”

They nodded, not trusting themself to speak past the disappointment sitting cold and heavy in their chest, not trusting themself to speak past the lump in their throat. Dream grabbed their hand and pulled them further out into the open, a grin back on his face, and they didn't dare speak up and ruin his good mood.

The wind was even more biting out further in the open, and Ranbob was shivering so hard they were slightly surprised they hadn’t slipped and fallen into the dark grey sea by now. They were beyond soaked, and they wished Dream hadn't suggested coming to the surface in the first place.

 _Dream,_ they tried to say, but their teeth were chattering so hard it barely even sounded like words, let alone a name.

Dream looked over at them anyway, and his face softened when he saw them shivering and huddled into themself.

“Let's go inside now,” he said.

They nodded quickly, taking the ladder on their own (dropping to the ground halfway down only hurt a little, and they were so cold) and stumbled down the steps toward the main part of the city.

“Hey,” Dream said, disapproval making his voice sharp as a weapon.

Ranbob stopped in their tracks, turning to face Dream, who was only halfway down the ladder.

“Wait for me.”

It felt like Dream was going agonizingly slowly, but it was only a few moments before he was standing beside them on the steps. They waited until he was half a step in front of him to continue, sticking close by his side.

If Dream felt the cold as they walked, Ranbob couldn't tell. They had to do an odd little hop-step every few moments to keep up, and it sent a twinge of pain through their broken arm every time, but it was fine. It didn't hurt that much.

At least the air in Mizu is still, they thought, as Dream disappeared into the room where he'd collected things such as spare clothes and favorite books. Ranbob continued down the hall until they reach their room, shivering so hard they can barely get their soaking wet hand to open the door without it slipping off.

It’s a struggle to get changed with a broken arm, and several times they have to sit down and just breathe, teeth gritted and tiny whimpers caught in their throat. But eventually they manage (aside from the sling; that's still soaked, but they’d need Dream’s help to handle that) and go back into the hallways where Dream is waiting.

“Hello,” Dream said warmly.

“Hello,” they returned, feeling awkward. Should they apologize? Should they ask for help with their arm? Both?

“Do you need help with that?” Dream asked, and relief washed through them.

They nodded. “Yeah, I—I do.”

//

“So what did you think of the rain?” Dream asked as he worked.

Ranbob’s gaze dropped to the floor. “It was very cold,” they said neutrally.

Dream laughed. “That it is. Although, it’s colder out at sea, and windier. So there's that.”

“What's it like on land?” they asked, and instantly they regretted it, but Dream simply tilted his head to the side as he thought.

“More sheltered,” he said. “And it’s just…more alive, y’know? There's life everywhere, and it's easy to find instead of all beneath the waves or high overhead, and it’s less harsh.” Dream laughed. “It doesn't feel like the world is trying to kill you every time it’s less than sunny and still.”

Dream accidentally knocked into their broken arm slightly, and they hissed in pain. But it subsided after a few moments, and they tuned back into what Dream was saying.

“—more colorful,” he said, “and prettier. Not that the ocean isn't pretty, but it’s cruel too. On land the world is softer.”

They nodded, trying to appear like they’d been listening the whole time, but Dream didn't seem to care. He looked up and meet their eyes.

“There you go,” he said, and smiled at them.

They smiled back. “Thank you,” they said.

Dream reached out and lightly tugged the tip of their hair, grinning. They laughed and ducked their head, shaking it back and forth to get their hair out of their face.

“I’ve never seen a storm from below the sea,” Dream said, and Ranbob tilted their head to the side.

“Would you like to?”

“Why not?” Dream said, and reached out and took their left hand in his right one. He grinned. “I assume there’s a place to watch the storms?”

They nodded.

Dream squeezed their hand lightly, and something in their chest fluttered. “Lead the way,” he said, and they did.

There was a room near the park room that lead nearly all the way up to the surface, with a high ceiling that—if the conditions were right—you could see waves crashing over the glass. It was beautiful, in a cold, wild way, but Ranbob tended to avoid the room after they’d killed everyone.

Too many memories.

But Dream didn't have any memories associated with this room, and instead just tipped his head back and stared at the grey waves crashing over the glass, at the rain and seafoam trickling down the glass until another wave washed it away.

“Wow,” he murmured.

There was awe on his face, and pride in their city flickered through Ranbob’s chest.

“There are places to sit, over there,” they said quietly. They pointed to the assortment of chairs and benches against one wall.

“Alright,” Dream said, and took their hand in his again.

His skin was warm, and they shivered, trailing after him as he settled himself on a large, worn, soft brown chair. He pulled them down after him, and a startled laugh escaped them.

He wrapped an arm around their shoulders, and they couldn't help but lean into him. He was so warm, and safe, and they couldn’t quite believe that out of all the ways their life could have gone, this was where they ended up.

“It's very nice in here,” he said quietly, and they shivered as he started absentmindedly tracing the white splotches on the back of their left hand.

An aching sense of grief suddenly landed on their chest so hard they couldn't breathe, and Dream’s hand was overlaid with a grey-turquoise one. Ranbob blinked and the turquoise hand disappeared, but the grief didn’t.

“Dream,” they said, and their voice caught in their throat.

Dream frowned in concern. “You okay?” he asked.

“Dream,” they said again, and their chest hurt so badly they wouldn't be surprised if they looked down and saw a dark red stain. _“Dream.”_

They clutched tightly at his hand, voice cracking whenever they tried to explain, tears pricking at the back of their eyes.

 _Fuck,_ it hurt.

“Oh, Ranbob,” Dream murmured, his thumb brushing calmingly over the back of their hand. His other hand came up to stroke their hair, a repetitive, soothing motion that made them shiver. “Oh, Ranbob.”

Their whole body shuddered hard, and a tear came spilling down their face without permission. It slipped into their mouth, and they tasted salt.

They turned their head and pressed it into the thick blue-black jacket that he'd borrowed from someone who no longer needed it, sobs shaking their shoulders and forcing high-pitched, gasping whimpers from their throat.

Dream was murmuring something into their ear, but they couldn't manage to understand it, thin, pitiful, threadlike wails escaping them.

“I killed them all,” they sobbed. “I killed them all, I—I—Dream—”

One of Dream’s hands was still stroking their hair, and the other started rubbing slow circles on their back. They shuddered, clutching tightly to his jacket with their left hand. Their right hand, rendered useless by their broken arm, curled into a fist and dug sharp nails into their palm.

“Dream,” they sobbed, pressing their face into his jacket.

“Deep breaths,” Dream said into their ear, his voice low and steady. “C’mon, you're okay, just breathe. Shhhhhh.”

A hiccupping sob escaped them as they tried to listen. They were trying to follow his instructions, they really were, but they could barely manage to breathe at all, let alone slow and steady like they were trying to.

“Dream,” they said, like the name was a prayer, an anchor, the only thing keeping them grounded. Their voice wavered.

“Shhh,” Dream soothed. “You're okay, you're okay. I'm here. Shhhh. Just gotta breathe, okay? Just gotta breathe.”

A hiccupping sob shook their body, and they leaned hard into Dream. His heartbeat was steady and soothing against their ear, and slowly their shuddering breaths started to even out and match his.

“There you go,” Dream murmured, still rubbing their back. “There you go, good job.”

A shiver ran through their whole body at the praise.

“I killed them,” Ranbob whispered again. They clung to Dream like he was their anchor.

“I know,” Dream murmured, stroking their hair. “I've got blood on my hands too. You're okay.”

Even with Dream’s voice still murmuring gently in their ear and his hand on their back, their mind still played back memories like a broken record.

The guilt was so heavy they could barely breathe.

//

The storm had subsided before Ranbob was fully calm again, but the sunlight was soothing as it shone through the turquoise waves and cast dappled patterns on the floor. They were warm, curled up against Dream with their head resting on his shoulder.

“Sorry for overreacting earlier,” they whispered.

“Hm?”

“In the rain. Sorry.”

Dream made a noise of acknowledgement, squeezing their hand lightly. “I’m not mad about it.”

They winced. “Still. Sorry.”

Amusement twitched at the corner of Dream’s mouth when they shifted to look at his face, and he shook his head. “It's fine. Just don't do it again, 'kay?”

“I won’t,” they promised.

“Good,” he said, and a smile tugged at their mouth that they barely managed to stifle.

Dream let his head rest on theirs, and began tracing the splotches on their left hand again. They shivered once, then caught themself and stayed still. He flipped their hand over when he got to the tiny patch of black on the webbing between their thumb and forefinger, and then he paused.

“What's this from?” he asked softly, touching the scar on their palm lightly.

They shivered. Memories flickered through their mind.

“It's from when I killed everyone,” they answered, just as softly. “Someone swung a sword at me, to defend themself, and I put up my hand to keep it from hitting my face. It used to go across my whole palm, but the edges faded after a few years.”

Dream hummed in acknowledgement. “I have a scar on my face from not having a hand free to do that.”

Even though his face was out of sight, they could picture the scar he was talking about. Like a jagged claw mark across his right cheek.

They had wondered how he'd gotten that, even if they never would have actually asked.

“That sounds…unpleasant,” Ranbob said quietly.

Dream laughed. “Eh, I had it coming. Besides, it was returned in kind.”

“Oh.”

He made an amused sound at their reaction, reaching over to tuck a loose, wispy white strand of hair behind their ear. His fingertips trailed down the back of their neck and came up rest on their shoulder, the one further from him, and lightly tapped a rhythm as he let his head rest on theirs again.

“You wouldn't do anything like that, would you?”

They would have shaken their head if Dream’s had not been on top of it. Instead, they just answered and hoped the loyalty in their voice was clear.

“Of course not. I would never do anything to hurt you, Dream.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Dream said. His breath ruffled their hair as he let it out in an amused huff. “I know you wouldn’t, Ranbob. You’re far too loyal to ever do something like that.”

A wide grin spread across their face at the praise, and their eyes slipped closed for a moment. How could they ever have ended up this lucky?

Dream ran his fingers through their hair, and they leaned into the touch.

//

“How long has Mizu stood?” Dream asked as they wandered through the lower layers of the city.

Ranbob's head tipped to the side as they considered.

“Assuming I've been alone for five years, it's stood for…three hundred and forty-eight years.”

Dream let surprise show on his face. “Wow. That's a long time.”

Ranbob nodded, looking proud. “Ranboo made it when he ran away like the coward he was, from the consequences bestowed on him by Dr—…by you. He collected seven other misfits and made an underwater city.”

Dream hummed in acknowledgement. “And what were those consequences?”

“He never said,” they told him. “Skittish fucking coward. Too scared to face the consequences of his actions, so he made a place he could never leave.”

A laugh escaped Dream. “I take it you’re not too fond of him?”

They shook their head viciously. “He deserved everything he had coming.”

Dream reached out and touched the back of their good hand lightly, the light freckling of white on black and vice versa. He noticed the way they nearly missed a step and kept the amusement from his face. “You kinda look like him, you know,” he said, “’cept he didn't have patches of black and white, just a clear split down his face."

Ranbob wrinkled their nose in clear disgust. “I’m descended from him,” they said bitterly, “and I’m halfway sure that’s some handpicked-by-the-universe irony right there.”

Dream snorted. “You sure as hell don’t act like him.”

They straightened up, expression a strange mix of stubborn and proud. “Everyone expected it, since I'm named after him and stuff, but proved them wrong, huh?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I can't exactly see him killing everyone in an entire city. He was always way too weak for that, with his _pets_ and _sides_ and the way he clung to anyone who tossed him a _scrap_ of kindness.”

“I had a pet once,” Ranbob said, and then froze. “Uh—I—”

Dream reached out and lightly touched their shoulder. They flinched, but quickly leaned into his hand as though to disguise it.

“Go on,” Dream said gently.

They’d both stopped walking by now, and he could read their anxiety in the way they shuffled back and forth and fiddled with the hem of their jacket.

“Their name was Coral,” Ranbob said hesitantly, “and they were a science project we did when I was thirteen. We were each given a little baby cod—or at least, partner-groups were—and were told to raise it, but everyone had slightly different conditions. I remember—Finch and Dawn raised theirs in freshwater, or not quite, it was more brackish water I guess, and me and Cove raised ours in warmer water than the rest of the class. A few of them died, but most of them lived to adulthood, and once the project was over we could keep them as pets. I got to keep Coral, but Cove would come visit a lot to see how they were doing. He would joke that they were our child.”

“Coral’s not still around, are they?”

Ranbob hastily shook their head. “The filter on the tank broke two years after. They died.”

“Aw,” Dream said, injecting sympathy into his voice. He put an arm around them, and felt them relax as they leaned into the touch.

“I thought you’d be mad,” they said quietly, “since not having attachments was your whole thing.”

He laughed. “Nah, it's just not a good idea. Never worked out for any of the others, did it?”

They snorted. “Idiots.”

Dream laughed, dropping his arm from around their shoulders to squeeze their hand lightly. “Yeah, they really were. They just wouldn’t _listen,_ y’know?”

“I would listen,” they said immediately.

“I know you would. That's one of the things that makes you better than them, you know that? Tommy was such a pain to handle because no matter what I did, he just wouldn’t do what I said.”

“Bastard,” Ranbob muttered. “Selfish bastard.”

Dream snorted. “Oh, he learned eventually.”

“What did you do?”

That was curiosity in their voice. Just curiosity, no distrust or judgement or anything. Still, Dream figured it might not be the best idea to just outright say it.

“Maybe I'll tell you later,” he said casually, and they nodded. Easily accepting the answer.

He barely even had to try.

“Did none of them ever listen to you?” Ranbob asked.

Dream shrugged. “It was on and off, mostly. Everyone listened to me in the end, but then it was less about actually getting them to listen and more just getting revenge. They put me in a fuckin’ prison, y’know? There were bound to be consequences.”

They wrinkled their nose in disgust. “Why did they not listen? It would have been easier for them. I don't know what you did, it was never recorded, but I can't imagine it was in any way pleasant.”

He laughed. “They were stubborn. Perhaps I went a little too far, but hey. Very few of them had lasting damage from it.”

“Really? It was recorded that Ranboo—“

They faltered. Dream reached out and brushed the back of his hand against theirs.

“Very few.”

“Sorry,” they said softly.

The corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement. “It's fine.”

“The history books hated you,” Ranbob said, after a moment. “I never understood why. There was conflicting information, but most of it seemed—justified? I don’t—…I don't understand. No one else was remembered in such dark terms.”

“Enough,” Dream said mildly, and they snapped their mouth shut. “It would upset you.”

“You can tell me—”

Dream grabbed their wrist and felt them stiffen under his hand. He turned them to face him, and let disapproval show heavy and harsh on his face.

“Enough,” he said, voice low and dangerous. They took an unconscious step back, and he followed them. “Learn to listen the first time.”

They flinched.

“Have you forgotten your place?”

His voice was soft now, but still just as dangerous. He’d picked up on how they were hesitant to do anything they deemed pushy, earlier; he hadn't even had to do anything to start that train of thought in them.

“I'm sorry,” they whispered.

“Sorry is good,” Dream said, voice steady, “but don't do it in the first place and you won't have to be.”

“I’m sorry,” they whispered again. He could feel their pulse, quick and frantic. Scared.

Dream released them and they stumbled back, good arm wrapped around themself protectively. Their fingers trembled ever so slightly, and he didn't miss how they clutched the sleeve of their jacket to hide it.

He reached out, and they flinched back, but all he did was touch their arm lightly before taking their good hand. He carefully kept the amusement from his face.

“Let's go back to the surface layer, hm?”

They nodded quickly, fingers light and trembly in his, sticking close by his side as he led them back from the lower layers.

//

“I think,” Dream said quietly, staring up at the stars. “I think the sky was the thing I missed most when I was in the prison.”

Ranbob tilted their head curiously, trying to silently prompt him to go on, but wary of getting snapped at from the events of earlier that day.

He laughed when he glanced at them, before continuing. “I couldn’t stand to sleep indoors for months, y’know. I’d wake up all spooked.”

“I get that too,” they said, very softly. “Waking up and not knowing where I am, or what happened. Sometimes I’d think I’d been banished, although not as much anymore.”

“Oh, I don't think you ever actually explained,” Dream said suddenly. “Why were they gonna banish you?”

Ranbob couldn't hold in their wince at the question.

“Space is precious in Mizu,” they said, very softly, “and they decided to honor many of the important ones by dedicating rooms to them. They did not believe you deserved a room. I cleared out a storage room—it was the only one I could get my hands on—and made it into an idol room, for you. That was the final straw for them, and I suppose a nearly-grown teenager who was constantly causing trouble breaking one of the biggest rules was just too far for those in control. They decided I would be banished in two weeks. So instead I gathered poison of various sorts—y’know how sometimes medicine is fatal if you have too much, or if you're not sick? I stole some of that and put it in food, and that killed most people. The rest of them I fought, and I won.”

Dream raised an eyebrow, and part of them hoped he was impressed.

“And the bodies?”

“Wh—what?”

“What did you do with the bodies?” he asked.

Something sick and heavy ached in their chest.

“We’d had a problem with phantoms for a while,” they said slowly. “They need very little oxygen, so often they’d dive deep and scratch at the glass in an attempt to get to us. Their wings helped them swim, I suppose.”

Dream noticed them faltering, and nudged them. “Go on,” he said mildly.

They nodded. Right. “I—there were old hatches where we would trade with ships that would come by, before I was born. Those led to the surface.”

Ranbob tried to continue, but the words stuck in their throat, and instead they just shuddered and curled into themself.

“You gave the bodies to the phantoms?”

They nodded, and noticed tears pricking at the back of their eyes. _Don’t cry. Don't cry. Don’t cry._

Dream nodded, looking mildly impressed. “Clever,” he said.

A sniffling little laugh escaped them, and then before they realized it it had changed to tears running down their face and a lump in their throat that made speech impossible.

“Still not over it, are you?” he murmured.

Ashamed, they shook their head. Fear flickered briefly through their gut.

Dream took their hand, very gently, and tugged them close to him. They obeyed, and he wrapped his arms around them and began gently rocking them back and forth.

A strangled sob tore its way from their throat, and they pressed their head into the front of his shoulder in an attempt to muffle their cries.

“Oh, Ranbob,” Dream murmured, and his hand came up to slowly run through their hair. They shuddered and leaned hard against him, clutching tightly at the fabric of his soft green hoodie.

“Dream,” they managed. “Dream.”

His hand came to rest on the spot just above the back of their neck, fingers stroking through the two or so inches of hair there. His other hand was solidly resting on their back, rubbing soothing circles into the spot between their shoulderblades.

They shuddered hard and leaned into him, tears still slipping down their face. He was solid, and warm, and they couldn’t afford to turn down the comfort even if fear still fluttered dully in their stomach.

It was a good few minutes before they were calm enough to draw back, and even then they didn't let go of Dream’s hand.

“What are these from?” he asked softly, touching the spot right below their goggles rested.

“They’re…they belonged to someone I knew,” Ranbob answered, just as softly.

“Who?”

They twitched.

“His name was Cove,” they said slowly. “Most other kids thought me too odd to handle, but he didn’t, and so we became friends. He was—he was my only friend.”

They bit back the tears that wanted to fall, swallowed back the lump in their throat.

“I killed him along with everyone else.”

“Hm,” Dream said. His fingers trailed down the side of their head slowly, and they leaned into the touch. His hand stopped when it reached the spot above their ear, and maybe they should have anticipated it, but they didn’t, and so it came as a shock when he tugged the goggles from their head.

“Hey—”

They swallowed back the protest that wanted to rise in their throat, instead just reaching out feebly with their good hand. Dream paid them no attention, turning the goggles over in his hand, then humming a disappointed, disapproving note in the back of his throat and tossing them into the dark sea.

“Wh—”

They jerked as if to grab them out from the waves, and Dream’s arm came to rest around their waist, heavy and constricting.

“Dream,” they pleaded, reaching out helplessly into the air as though the goggles hadn’t already sunk beneath the surface. “Dream, th—”

“Sometimes you need to move on,” he said firmly. “I was doing you a favor.”

Slowly, the tension seeped out of their body and they were slumped against Dream.

“Why did you do that?” they whispered.

Dream laughed, harsh and cruel, and for a moment fear stabbed through them so intensely that they couldn't breathe.

“He’s not around anymore, is he?”

Slowly, hesitantly, they shook their head.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Guilt was a heavy, familiar weight on their chest.

“…Mine.”

Dream nodded, running a hand through their hair, and they couldn't help but lean into the touch.

“Good,” he said simply, and a sick part of them was ecstatic at the praise. “Now do you get it?”

They did.

“Yes,” they whispered.

“Say it?”

“…I didn't deserve to have it.”

“Good,” Dream said again. “Now you get it.”

“…I…I wanted to keep it,” they said, very softly, very hesitantly.

He sighed, then leaned in as though telling them a secret. “You don’t get to,” he said against their ear. “You listen to what I say. And I said you don’t get to. Okay?”

Shaken, trembling slightly, they nodded.

“…Okay,” they whispered.

“Good,” Dream praised, and squeezed their shoulder to punctuate it.

“I’m sorry,” they whispered. Maybe he’d be nicer if they apologized for whatever they’d done wrong, for whatever they’d done to deserve this treatment.

Dream sighed, and when they risked a glance up at his face, he just looked tired.

“You need to listen,” he said quietly.

“I’m trying,” they said, just as quietly. “I’m trying to be better, I'm sorry for whatever I did—”

Dream kissed them.

They froze in surprise, their whole body set alight. He pulled away, and they weren’t sure they could even form coherent sentences.

“Listen to me,” he said, very softly. “I have been alive for a very long time. I have seen every possible way for someone to fall to their own flaws. I'm trying to help you, okay?”

They nodded, barely daring to breathe.

“Remember,” Dream said, “that I know better than you do. So when I say something, you _listen_. Okay?”

They nodded again. “Dream,” they breathed, “you’re scaring me.”

“Not my intention,” he said, and gave them a soft smile. “We could go inside, if you'd like.”

Ranbob hesitated, then shook their head. He gave them a look of approval, reaching out to touch the back of their hand.

“There we go,” Dream said, and they nodded. After a moment, they leaned toward him, trying to draw comfort from his presence.

He wrapped an arm around their shoulders, and when they let their head rest on his shoulder, he rested his head on theirs.

“There we go,” he said again, and took their good hand in his. He brushed his thumb over the back of their hand, making them shiver. When they looked up at him, he was smiling.

//

_Cove grinned at them, orange eyes sparkling with mischief. “They'll never know,” he countered._

_They tugged at their sleeves, glancing around anxiously. “If they do, we’ll get in so much trouble,” they pointed out._

_He snorted. “I’ll take the blame, ‘kay? C’mon, it's not like it’ll mess with the systems too bad.”_

_“Are the others coming too?”_

_He shook his head. “Devin’s gotta make up for that test he missed, and the others have to do their turn with the crops.”_

_Ranbob hesitated, fidgeting with the buttons of their jacket. “Okay,” they said after a moment._

_He grinned. “Finally! I thought we’d be here all night,” he teased._

_They ducked their head. “Hush,” they retorted, grinning, “I’m simply being cautious.”_

_Cove laughed. “Let's go! Most people are still at dinner, and no one’s in field three, so it won’t be noticed if we slip a few fish into the water.”_

_They raised an eyebrow at him. “If?”_

_“When, whatever,” he said, still grinning. He grabbed their hand and pulled them along. “C’mon!”_

_“I'm coming, I'm coming!” they yelped, trying and failing to stifle their laughter. “Be patient!”_

_“Hm,” he said, tilting his head and adopting a mock-confused expression, “I'm not sure if I know the meaning of that word.”_

_They poked his arm. “That’d explain your grades,” they said, and he laughed._

_“How are we gonna get the fish there without looking suspicious?” Ranbob asked, as they neared the room where the fish were kept._

_Cove grinned. “Leave that to me,” he said._

_“But—” They hesitated. “But how?”_

_He grabbed their wrist. “Don’t question me,” he said, voice sharp._

_They looked up and meet green-grey eyes in a pale face. Dream stared back at them. Panic washed through them like a wave and they tugged their hand free, stumbling back._

_“Dream?”_

_He followed them, grabbing their wrist again and holding it too tightly for them to tug free._

_“Dream!”_

_He grinned cruelly, and there was blood on his face. (Had that always been there?)_

_They were scared._

_His nails dug into their skin, and a startled, pained noise escaped them. He just laughed._

_“…Dream?”_

_He shoved them back, and the glass cracked around them. They hit the cold, salty sea, and when they looked back at him again, a layer of glass separated them._

_Ranbob tried to breathe in and choked on seawater._

They woke up coughing.

Shaken, they looked over at Dream. He was asleep, and they decided that it was for the best. They weren't sure how they’d react if he was awake.

“What _was_ that?” they breathed, sitting up and tucking their knees against their chest, carefully avoiding their broken arm. They were trembling, they realized, and dug their nails into their palm in an attempt to stop.

The sea was dark above the glass ceiling, and Ranbob shuddered, remembering the horror that had sunk claws into their gut when they realized they were trapped on the wrong side of the glass. Their gaze wandered across the room, and they tried to draw comfort from the familiar surroundings.

And then they made the mistake of looking at Dream, expecting to see him still sleeping peacefully.

His eyes were open.

Fear fluttered to life in their chest, and they tried to steady their breaths with little success.

“…Dream?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up, and he raised an eyebrow at them.

“Dream?” They couldn't keep the fear out of their voice. _Say something,_ they begged. _Anything._

“Yeah?” he said, voice raspy from sleep, and relief washed through them like a wave.

They let out a long, shuddering sigh, wrapping their good arm around themself protectively. He was still, watching them, but they felt safer now that he’d spoken.

“Are you alright?” he said, sitting up. He reached out, and they flinched.

Something flickered across his face, and dread roiled in their gut, but then his face settled into an easy, concerned expression.

“Nightmare,” they answered. “It—”

What were they going to say? _You were there? It was before Mizu was empty? You shoved me through the glass?_

“I ended up on the wrong side of the glass,” they said eventually. They could still see his cruel smile, dark red splatters on his face, they could still hear his laughter.

Dream was staring at them, concern on his face.

“You good?”

 _Yes,_ they meant to say, but instead a jagged, painful sound escaped them, and they squeezed their eyes shut and shuddered.

A gentle hand on their shoulder made them startle, and they opened their eyes. Dream was there, hand on their shoulder, his other hand reaching to take theirs. He was warm and grounding, and they leaned into him.

“Aw, Ranbob,” Dream said softly. “I'm here.”

They leaned into him and felt themself relax, his presence radiating safety. His hand came up and stroked through their hair, and they shivered, pressing their head into his hand.

“Nightmares are horrible, aren't they?” he murmured, and they nodded. “What was this one about?”

They pressed their face into his chest, trying to avoid answering. He made a disappointed hum in the back of his throat, but didn’t press them to answer, and for that they were grateful.

_“The ocean is pretty, but it’s cruel too.”_

Dream’s voice flickered through their head, and they suddenly thought that that statement could apply to him, too.

Pretty, and cruel.

//

“How long has Mizu been without potions?” Dream asked.

Ranbob tilted their head to the side, thinking. “I don't think we’ve ever had a nether portal here,” they said, “so probably since whatever supplies the founders had ran out.”

“Shame,” he said. “Healing or regen could fix your arm within minutes.”

“Really?”

The question slipped out of their mouth before they could think about it, and they cringed when they remembered they already knew the answer.

“Yep,” Dream said. “Regen is just like a wither effect in reverse, it’s great. In battles, if you drank regen before fighting, any wound you’d get would heal straight away. It could make the difference between a losing side and a winning one.”

“Wow.”

“Ranboo couldn’t touch water without it burning him, y'know that? Means if he actually built this city, he probably needed a great deal of regen.”

“Wouldn't that—hurt? Or scar, or something?”

Dream laughed. “Both regen and healing tend to take away the pain of an injury unless it's a really bad one. Interestingly enough, healing leaves a scar, and regen doesn’t. So, this—” He pointed at the scar on his cheek. “—is because healing was closer, and I didn't feel like bleeding through the hallways just so it wouldn’t scar. I wear my mask around most people, anyway.”

They nodded slowly, and tried to ignore the burst of pride in their chest at not being one of the people Dream wore a mask around.

“Your city seems very different from how I grew up,” Dream said. “A lot more…enclosed? And a lot safer. Me and George and Sap would fight monsters since we were really little.”

“I've never killed any kind of monster,” they said quietly. “Only—”

Their voice died in their throat, and they finished their sentence in a whisper.

“Only people.”

Dream’s hand came to rest on their shoulder comfortingly. “You’re not alone there,” he said wryly.

“You didn't murder an entire city,” they said bitterly. Without thinking.

He laughed, but there was something cold and feral in the edges of his expression. “Oh, I've done worse.”

“…Like what?”

Dream leaned in, and they found themselves unable to move. Their breaths came shallow and quick, as though he would take offense if they seemed unconcerned.

“Have you ever wondered,” he murmured into their ear, “why Ranboo was the only one of people I knew to found Mizu?”

Their heart was in their throat.

“What did you do?” they asked, voice barely a breath.

Dream smiled and released them. “It would upset you.”

Remembering what happened last time, Ranbob didn't argue. But now fear traced their steps when they followed Dream.

//

The next few days were pretty much the same. It would start out fine, until inevitably Ranbob messed up somehow, and Dream would put them back in their place. It was fine, though, because he was never that harsh. Usually just a sharp word or a casual cuff around the head.

It was fine.

Ranbob ignored how they now flinched whenever Dream raised a hand.

…It was _fine_.

A heavy storm rolled in, driving them both to the lower levels for fear that something would let water flood in. (It had happened before, although only once; a piece of coral had been ripped from the ceiling by a powerful current, taking the glass with it, and water had come pouring in. They had only been little, then, but they remembered the haste that those in charge had handled it.)

Dream ended up panicking after a few hours down there. They knew he didn't do well with dark walls or small spaces, so they’d tried to lead him to the closest large room. He’d grabbed their broken arm and pulled, and they were pretty sure they had blacked out for a second. But they learned from that, and just let him tire himself out and fall asleep curled in a corner.

He apologized when he woke up. Said he thought they were Sam, and that he was trying to defend himself.

They didn't blame him.

(Perhaps they should have.)

The storm had passed by dawn of the next day, and Dream wanted to watch the sunrise, so they went to the surface. It was chilly, but he was warm, and so they didn't mind it too much.

They were just about to go back inside when a boat appeared.

Dream stiffened, scrabbling for his mask. Ranbob stood, bracing themself as though the stranger would attack.

“Hello?” the stranger called, and Ranbob twitched.

Their good hand found Dream’s, and they looked up to read his expression only to be greeted with the smooth white mask.

“Hi,” Dream called back, sounding cautious.

“I'm Benjamin,” he said, boat bumping up against the stone bricks. He offered them a small, friendly smile.

Ranbob looked at Dream, trying to read the correct way to react. They didn't want to mess up.

“I'm Dream,” he said, “and this is Ranbob. Why are you here at our city?”

_Our city._

Benjamin tilted his head, getting out of the boat and stepping onto the stone.

“I'm a fisherman,” he said. His voice was bright and warm, but Ranbob was still wary. “I was coming this way since it's different than usual, and then I saw glass and lights on the seafloor, so I got curious and followed the paths to here.”

They nodded slowly, glancing at Dream again and shuffling closer to him.

“I see.”

“Your name is Dream, you said?” Benjamin said, and he seemed a little more wary. Behind his dark glasses, Ranbob thought they could see his eyes narrow.

“That is correct,” Dream said, stilted and cautious.

“…How old are you, Dream?”

He bristled, but kept it out of his voice. “And what's that got to do with anything?” he asked, voice neutral.

“…Just wondering,” Benjamin said. “Ranbob? Is he mortal?”

They stepped back in surprise.

“No, he’s—”

Dream’s nails dug into the back of their hand, and they stopped talking.

Benjamin’s mouth hardened into a straight line.

“I see nothing’s changed from the stories,” he said. He sighed. “I had hoped you had.”

Ranbob twisted to look at Dream, confused. “What is he—”

A rock hit Dream’s mask, and it shattered.

Dream cried out, stumbling back, hands flying to cover his face. Ranbob looked back and forth between Benjamin, who was tucking something back into his pocket, and Dream, who was collecting the shards of his mask with his hood pulled over his face.

Their forehead stung, and they reached up to touch it. Their fingers came away red with blood.

Benjamin approached them, and they stumbled back.

“You hurt Dream!” they spat accusingly. “What did he ever do to you?”

Benjamin paused. “Nothing…to me,” he said slowly. “But he’s hurt many, many people. Can…can you tell me with all honesty that he's never done anything to hurt you?”

They ducked their head. “Only…when he had to,” they mumbled. “It was my fault.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat and reached out a hand toward them.

“C’mon,” he said gently.

They watched his hand warily. Trembling just a little. Tanned. Tiny silver scars were scattered around his fingertips.

“No way,” they said lowly.

“Trust me—Ranbob? Ranbob. Trust me, okay? I'm not gonna do anything to hurt you.”

They wrinkled their nose, backing up another step. “You literally just flung a rock at Dream. You—you flung a _rock_ at _Dream!_ Why would I _trust_ you?”

“Dream’s a—Dream’s not nice. He’s hurt a lot of people.”

“So have I!” they fired back. Their shoulders hit the wall of the glass room behind them, and they twitched.

Benjamin paused. “You have?”

 _“Yes,”_ they spat, grasping at his hesitation. _Maybe if he understands what a monster I am he’ll leave us alone._ “Did you notice how empty this city is? _Take a fucking guess why!”_

“I—Just come with me, okay? We're not gonna hurt you. It'll be better than being alone, won't it?”

“I have Dream,” they growled. “I’m not leaving.”

Benjamin stepped forward and raised his hand, and they flinched. He sighed and rested his hand on their shoulder lightly.

“Come on,” he said gently.

They pulled back their lips in an animalistic snarl. “I'm not going anywhere!”

He sighed, and for the first time, he looked frustrated. “Can you just come with me?” he said.

It was loud enough they flinched, and then they went still.

They didn’t fight when he gently took their good hand and led them to his boat.

“I don't want to leave,” they whispered, as they settled on a wooden plank bench.

“I know,” he said softly.

“This is my—my home.”

“…I know.”

“Fuck you,” Dream said, from the stone bricks of Mizu as the boat began to move, but his voice was more amused than angry.

“Language,” Benjamin returned sharply, and Ranbob flinched again. He winced. “Sorry,” he said, quieter.

Dream watched them go, holding the shards of his mask to his face. Ranbob shivered and leaned closer to Benjamin, trying to draw comfort from him.

They were both quiet as the boat cut through the shining, foam-tipped waves.

**Author's Note:**

> there will be more to this! but i'm currently participating in a tumblr dsmp fandom event, so it may not be written for another few months.


End file.
